


Dusk Eclipsing the Dawn

by TsarAlek



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Almost Caught, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Ashe Has Dangerous Fingers, Azure Moon - Freeform, Biting, Body Worship, Dancer Sylvain, F/F, F/M, Felix in Glasses, Licking, Longing, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Plot With Porn, Porn With Plot, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Semi-Public Sex, Two Years After Game End, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 62,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21655849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsarAlek/pseuds/TsarAlek
Summary: The war in Fodlan is over, Dimitri has risen to his place as king, with Marianne at his side. Things go back to relative normalcy as everyone who has survived the war resumes life, and attempts to navigate this new and changing world. Garreg Mach is full of refugees, bandits roam the country-side, and Dimitri has grand plans for reform in Fodlan. Claude reigns in Almyra, Petra in Brigid, and for once in seven years, things look to be shaping up. As the continent works on its new system, sinister forces that have yet to be brought from the darkness make their move, and the balance that has only barely been established titters on the edge of destruction. The war is not over yet, the fighting will continue, and the relationships and bonds that have been formed will be pushed passed the breaking point. Espionage, death, love, and war abound once again as Fodlan descends into the chaotic flames of war.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Caspar von Bergliez/Petra Macneary, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 44
Kudos: 49





	1. Frozen in Fraldarius

**Author's Note:**

> Felix is alone in his territory feeling the pains of separation from Ashe. Alcohol has been his best sleep medication and his Butler is worried about his health. Sad and lonely, Felix attempts to pleasure himself, spurred on by an alcoholic buzz.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war in Fodlan is over, Dimitri has risen to his place as king, with Marianne at his side. Things go back to relative normalcy as everyone who has survived the war resumes life, and attempts to navigate this new and changing world. Garreg Mach is full of refugees, bandits roam the country-side, and Dimitri has grand plans for reform in Fodlan. Claude reigns in Almyra, Petra in Brigid, and for once in seven years, things look to be shaping up. As the continent works on its new system, sinister forces that have yet to be brought from the darkness make their move, and the balance that has only barely been established titters on the edge of destruction. The war is not over yet, the fighting will continue, and the relationships and bonds that have been formed will be pushed passed the breaking point. Espionage, death, love, and war abound once again as Fodlan descends into the chaotic flames of war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix is alone in his territory feeling the pains of separation from Ashe. Alcohol has been his best sleep medication and his Butler is worried about his health. Sad and lonely, Felix attempts to pleasure himself spurred on by an alcoholic buzz.
> 
> Usually that will be in the chapter summary but this first chapter summary is a story summary instead XD. It will be fixed next chapter, hope you enjoy!

Felix was alone. Felix was alone, tired, and quite frustrated, with all possible meanings of that word. The war was over, everyone had gone their separate (or not so separate) ways after Edelgard had met her end and Dimitri was crowned king of all Fodlan. Things rapidly progressed from there. Dimitri and Marianne, quite the perfect match Felix thought, had married. Now only 6 months later, they were already expecting. Mercedes and her nearly killed brother, who turned out to be the bloody death knight, remained at Garreg Mach with Byleth, who was now archbishop. Linhardt, Byleth’s husband, as well as a plethora of other people including Manuela and Hanemman remained there as well. 

Sylvain shirked all responsibility and chose to go to Almyra with Claude. Felix couldn’t blame him; Felix hated every minute of the work he was doing at home in Fraldarius territory too. Oh, to elope to a different kingdom with your handsome tanned… boyfriend? Were they boyfriends now? Anyway, it sounded wonderful to Felix. When Sylvain explained he was leaving, done acting like a foolish skirt chaser, and intended to seriously court Claude… Well. Felix couldn’t help but beam with pride at his growth as a human. He then immediately smiled and placed a hefty punch right into Sylvain’s gut; how dare that insatiable buffoon leave him to work alone. They parted with a hug. Felix loved that dolt, and he genuinely hoped Sylvain found happiness with whatever he and Claude had going, not that he would ever admit that to anyone but his own inner monologue. 

Ingrid rarely visited either, she too abandoned her noble title and joined the initiative to reestablish Duscur. She would become a knight as well he figured, just as she had always wanted, he was happy for her, genuinely. However, the total lack of company and the extreme amounts of work Dimitri delegated to him at home were beyond reasonable.

Dimitri decided to reform Fodlan; Edelgard was right in some respects about the unfair system of nobles and the power of the church. Archbishop Byleth, still hilarious since he barely knew the inner workings of the Church of Seiros at all, had confiscated all hero’s relics from each of the noble houses. He revealed the relics to be evil entities, created from the bones of the children of the Goddess. The dead would be put to rest for good this time, the tombs of Garrech mach filled with bones carved into weapons of death. Dimitri in turn declared that the feudal nobility system was to end. It would be replaced with a Viceroyalty system where the king would appoint governors, called Viceroys, to administer each chunk of his very large kingdom. They would remain as Viceroy as long as Dimitri deemed fit and anyone who was capable and passed all the necessary exams to be a bureaucrat could be nominated for Viceroy. 

Much work still needed doing in implementing this idea and Felix was temporarily put in charge of the Gautier territory as well, seeing as how Sylvain’s elopement with Claude had caused his father to have a heart attack. The old bastard actually keeled over in rage and disbelief after finding out Sylvain liked men. Neither Felix or Sylvain actually cared when he died, but it did make Felix’s job twice as difficult. He had to prepare the taxes of both provinces, collect the harvests, make deals with merchants and mercenaries, and guard the northern border with Sreng, now that the Gautiers were gone. That was perhaps his favorite part of the job, getting rid of his frustration by getting rid of invaders. This slight respite however was not reliable; Dimitri was in negotiations with Sreng, and peace seemed to be coming to Fodlan, a good thing for the general populace, but a bad thing for Felix’s mood. 

Felix sighed. He looked at the stack of paperwork sitting before him; it never seemed to shrink no matter how many papers he signed and read and stamped and mailed off. Tomorrow there would be more, and this stack was not even completed. He had yet to receive the harvest report from the former Gautier territories. The head of the blacksmith guild had yet to arrive at his manor to talk about increasing the readiness of the militia and supplying them with weapons. And of course, to top it all off, Felix was also suffering from a persistent headache that had lasted for well over a week already. 

Felix leaned back in his chair; he was too exhausted to work anymore tonight. He was used to pushing himself but was also smart enough to know his limits. Even during his school years Felix always ensured he slept for a minimum of six hours. Felix figured, after his bath, he would get maybe five, and he would awaken with a headache, and sore shoulders, and an aching heart. Felix growled in pent up frustration at his situation. 

He stared into the fire flickering in the corner for a moment, the flames chased each other around in a constant dance. They were entrancing, something so unlike Felix, so free. Sparks and embers flew as parts of the wood became exhausted and crumbled to ash. Ash. Ashe. Why did Ashe have to invade his thoughts at this moment? 

Felix removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, dispelling his thoughts of the silver haired boy. He was not a fan of glasses in the slightest. The bridge of his nose still hurt, and was always red; his ears hurt too, he knew the irritation would go away after some weeks, but he really hated glasses. Felix knew his eyesight had been getting worse over the years, he had to lean in close to read words, and he had grown used to looking for flashes of color to discern friend and foe on the battlefield, rather than faces. During the war, he did not have time to worry about his ailing eyesight, now that he was home however, he knew it was necessary to attend to this particular issue. Ashe loved his glasses, and constantly insisted that he looked sexy and mysterious when wearing them. Felix thought the idea was balderdash. The glasses just added years to his face. Ashe constantly attempted to reassure Felix that he looked youthful and quite handsome. Felix realized his mind had drifted back to Ashe again, and he let out a loud and irritated groan. He desperately needed Ashe; he could no longer deny it. He needed Ashe here with him, he needed to talk to him, and vent and he needed Ashe to push him into bed and… 

Felix violently shook his head in an attempt to dispel the line of thinking he was about to go down. If he thought of that then he would be more frustrated. Felix could never come close to pleasuring himself the way that Ashe could, Ashe was simply too perfect, and wonderful. Instead Felix ordered his butler to bring him the strongest alcohol they had, and decided he was overdue a relax in the baths. At the very least the snowy north was home to natural springs, the Fraldarius mansion had the best bathhouse in the north. 

He stopped and stared out the window in the hallway, the snow was whistling loudly, he heard the howl of a snow wolf in the distance. This storm was not going to let up anytime soon, he knew. Winters this far north were freezing cold, one could get frostbite simply for standing outside a minute too long. The Fraldarius guest bedrooms were full of servants; Felix did not care a bit for how improper the gesture was, he was not going to allow any of those who worked for him to freeze to death in the shabby lodgings his father had attempted to call the servants quarters. 

Cassius, his butler, brought a tray with a glass full of ice and the strongest bottle of Vodka in the manor. Vodka was the alcohol of choice this far north, and they brewed it _strong too._ Felix skipped the glass and instead grabbed the whole bottle from the tray.

“My lord?” Cassius asked worriedly.

“It's fine Cassius.” Felix unscrewed the lid and took a large swig of the foul drink. Felix hated this garbage, but it was going to help him sleep, and he was constantly plagued by nightmares. Ashe was good at dispelling those nightmares but... Damnit. Ashe again, always on his mind. Felix knocked back another large swig. 

“It's quite dangerous to drink while bathing, I would advise against it.”

“I’m aware, most of this bottle is for after my bath, I’m no fool. And as much as I would like to, I'm not going to drink the whole thing, I still have more work to do in the morning.” he responded curtly.

“My Lord, have you considered petitioning the king for assistance? You are… well…”

Felix’s fuse had been short since he was born, but with how overworked and stressed he was, his patience was practically non-existent. 

“Spit it out Cassius.” he attempted to ooze venom, but figured he sounded more like a petulant teenager, not that he had the energy to care. 

Cassius for his part was unfazed, used to Felix’s short temper, “You look haggard my lord, you have worked non-stop for weeks. The addition of the Gautier territory, as well as much of the beleaguered countryside to your responsibility is running you to an early grave, and I do worry about the amount of alcohol you imbibe. You have trouble sleeping and your mood has been beyond horrendous. Last week you yelled at that merchant's wife for complimenting your looks and attempting to propose you marry their daughter. The deal with the merchant almost fell through because of that. It was only salvaged because the couple were full of grace, and knew the toils and hurt of war themselves, having lost their son.”

Had he been a normal noble, someone pompous and stuck up like Ferdinand, or even worse, that Gloucester dog with the ridiculous hair, he likely would have fired Cassius on the spot. Felix had known Cassius all his life, considered him to be family, and knew how much Cassius cared for him. That did little to stop the explosion he did not mean to have at this moment in time, however.

“The king is busier than me; he quadrupled the territory of the kingdom in one fell swoop without knowing a damn thing about how to _govern_ it all. The revenge obsessed madman then got _married_ , is now _expecting_ , and almost all the nobles of all of Fodlan are _dead or have eloped_ with their lovers! If it weren’t for the fact that he asked me to help, and that I have a modicum of sense and realize the _importance_ of his succeeding as king, no matter my damn opinion on his ruling style, I would have left TOO. _Who is left_? Me, Lysithea of ailing health, Ferdinand Von shut the fuck up, and _Lorenz Hellman_ _Gloucester.”_ Felix replied, making sure to add a particular amount of venom to that last name. Lorenz had _always always always_ pissed Felix off with his mere presence. 

Felix was tired. “He has no one else to send, asking would be a pointless endeavor anyway. We are the few who are still alive, or who have stuck around to help him govern these temporary Viceroyalties. Dimitri needs Dedue, Ingrid, and…” he stopped short of adding that last name on his lips, “he needs them in the capital. I have to handle this on my own. And I can’t petition Byleth for help either, he’s rebuilding the stupid church around a new set of rules, he needs his people too. It turns out that restructuring a thousand-year-old church with reach far beyond even our borders of Fodlan is actually a monumental task!” Felix didn’t mean to shout at his old friend. Felix sighed, uncapped the bottle in his hands, and took another giant swig of the foul drink. 

Cassius, old and sagely as he was, did something unexpected then, he reached out to Felix, laid his hands upon his shoulders, and pulled him into a hug. 

“If you asked him, he would send the boy. If you don't ask him, then rest assured, I will.”

Felix let out a frustrated sigh even as he rested his head against the chest of his old and loving butler. 

“Fine.” he replied curtly, knowing that he had lost. “I am… I’m going to go take my bath now.” 

Cassius took the bottle from Felix, who was too tired to resist. “I’ll leave this in your chamber, light your fireplace, and leave you our warmest furs; it's going to be a terribly cold night.”

“Fine…”

Cassius turned to walk away.

“Thanks.” Felix mumbled quietly.

“No need to thank me, my lord.”

Damn his good hearing. Felix didn’t thank people often, but Cassius had earned every ounce of respect and thanks for all his work. Cassius was the only one remaining in this cold and Goddess forsaken house helping to keep Felix functioning and alive. 

Felix walked to the bathhouse, stripped out of his heavy clothes, and looked at himself in the mirror. 

By the Goddess, Felix looked like _shit._ His eyes had large dark bags, his hair was coming undone from its tie, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked hollow and unfamiliar in the mirror, Felix knew himself to be handsome, though he was not vain about it. He was still handsome now, but handsome in the way that a tree in autumn, losing its leaves is beautiful. He was beautiful in his cataclysmic falling apart. His neck was sore, his arms hurt, his backside was numb from sitting all day, and he was craving. He was craving so intensely the company of that goofy silver haired boy with the freckles more lethal than the arrows he knocked to his bowstring. He craved so intensely, he thought he might go crazy, unless he already was.

Felix sighed; he was uncomfortably erect just at the thought of Ashe. He stepped into the bathhouse and climbed into the hottest bath. The scalding water hurt, but it was a pain he knew that would help heal. He furiously thought about his duties to be done in the morning, attempting not to think of Ashe, to very little avail. 

Felix let out a large and irritated grunt and plunged under the water. The water hurt his face but focusing on the burning in his lungs helped him clear his mind. He came up after a measly 20 seconds. He really needed to do some water training. He never knew when he would have to fight on the beach like that one miserable mission back during his academy days.

Fighting off those Western Church bastards was an awful mission. He couldn’t move effectively in the sand, mages sniped at him everywhere, and when he moved to cross the water to the little island… he almost drowned. Felix smiled at the memory, Ashe, that damnable beautiful fool had dove in and grabbed Felix, hauling him back to shore sputtering and cursing the Goddess. With magic induced burns, wind cuts, and frostbite Felix returned to the monastery in poor shape. He remembered cursing those damn mages, and their damn ability to just glide over the sand. 

Ashe had insisted Mercedes teach him healing magic and Ashe visited every day for two weeks, despite the fact that it took only three days for Felix to actually recover. Ashe was an atrocious healer; but his demeanor, his smile, his laughter? Those brightened Felix’s day every day for those two weeks. Ashe continued to visit even after he knew Felix was long since healed. Felix never refused his visits yet would never have acknowledged that he enjoyed spending time with Ashe back then. Sometime later, during one of those visits, they kissed, and some weeks after that...

Felix broke from his reverie; he couldn’t tell if he was red from the heat of the water or from the force of his memories. Felix climbed out of the bath and went back into the dressing room. He opted out of wearing nightclothes, instead putting on a robe; clothes would only get in the way of what he intended to do back in his room.

He stumbled into his room, red, warm, exhausted, and completely smitten with a boy many hundreds of miles away. On his nightstand was a small shot of Vodka. Damn Cassius, he hadn’t followed orders, but Felix wasn’t thinking too hard about the alcohol anyway. Felix took the glass and downed it, the damn liquid burned like fire on its way down, and only made him feel even warmer. 

Felix untied his robe, and laid out a towel on his bed, he hated messes in his bed. Unless he was with Ashe, he always made sure to do this as cleanly as possible. Thoughts of Ashe flooded his alcohol ridden, completely fatigued mind. He opened his drawer and pulled out the jar of oil he and Ashe used as lubricant. Anticipation rocked his body and he shivered despite the heat still radiating from his bath, and the alcohol running amok inside him. 

Felix laid down atop the towel he had laid out. On his back he raised his legs and held them in place with one arm. He knew what a compromising position this was, but it gave him the best access to himself. With his other hand, he dipped his fingers in the oil, and brought them to his entrance. He felt another shiver, and began to massage the opening, slowly, with great care. He was feeling impatient though, his mind was on Ashe, he imagined it was Ashe preparing him. He let out a held breath and pushed one finger inside himself. Ashe always did this the best; Felix was rough from lack of recent practice. Felix couldn’t even remember how he did this before he and Ashe began to fall for each other. Badly, he assumed. He withdrew the finger and pushed it in again, and again, and again, this wasn't nearly enough, he needed _more._ He added another finger, his ring finger, perhaps a ring finger that would one day bind him forever to Ashe. He jabbed at his prostate and held his voice as the electric feeling coursed through his body and jolted his penis, forcing it to full attention.

His thoughts became hazy, his mind full of thoughts of Ashe, and pleasure, and the desire for _more._ He started to stretch himself, and then realized he had nothing to stretch himself for, Ashe was not here; he couldn’t push into him and give Felix what he wanted so desperately. He swore under his breath, the next time he saw Ashe, he didn’t know what he would do. He called Dimitri a boar, but if he had his way, they might be calling him feral rabbit soon enough. He smiled despite himself, the thought of screwing like rabbits felt like the perfect idea to him. He had more than earned the right to just ignore the world, responsibility, and be with who he loved. 

He pulled his fingers out, and thrust back in, with more force. This felt good, but it wasn’t Ashe, it wasn’t Ashe’s penis that fit so perfectly inside him. He wouldn’t be able to finish like this, so he opened his legs and suspended them in air. He would have to do this the old-fashioned way. He began to stroke himself while he thrust in and out. He was so pent up, he was so stressed out. He began to stroke himself harder, playing with the head, precum dripping onto his stomach, he jabbed at his prostate harder too, trying to push himself over the edge. 

Three knocks broke the silence of his room. Felix stopped. The only one awake would be Cassius, and Cassius had walked in on him in worse positions. Cassius knew not to enter if Felix did not respond, and if Cassius did enter, well, Felix didn’t care. He continued to stroke himself, with greater intensity, and rub at his prostate, sending more intense electricity through his body. 

“Felix!” three more loud pounds came at the door, more frantic. “Felix! Ashe is here with Ingrid, both of them are bloody and beaten to all hell! Come assist me!”

Felix just about choked on the air he was attempting to breathe. He quickly withdrew his fingers and threw his robe back on, not bothering to clean the oil or the mess of precum that had dripped onto his stomach. Felix threw the doors open and broke into a sprint to the reception hall. His thoughts were a furious blur. _Who? Who hurt him? I will END them. Is he ok? Why is Ingrid here? What the fuck happened in the capital? What has happened to the boar?_ He barely registered Cassius following behind him.

Felix burst through the doors to the reception hall. 

Ashe looked to him and appraised him. Felix’s hair was wet, his robe was in a state of fantastic undress, sliding off of one shoulder revealing a very pink and hard nipple, the tie barely holding the robe closed. Felix also had an apparent but receding bulge. Ashe gawked a bit as he realized what he must have accidentally interrupted with his sudden appearance like this. 

“H..Hey… Felix...Sorry to stop by unannounced.”

Ashe was carrying an unconscious Ingrid atop his back, and he made to wave to Felix, with a pained smile on his lips. Ashe collapsed to the ground in a heap, with Ingrid on top of him. 

Felix dashed to their side, pulling Ingrid off Ashe, and laying them out on the floor on their backs. 

Felix’s eyes went wide. Ashe was covered in blood. Large gashes and wounds were present all over his body. Felix saw a large gash on his chest, still bleeding. Whatever weapon had cut through his thin armor and blue outfit so iconic of Ashe had done too good a job. That blue outfit, was not discernible as blue any longer, so stained it was. There was a large gash above his left eye, blood covering that side of his face. Felix eyed an arrow sticking out of the back of Ashe’s leg. He was shivering, his lips a light purple, his skin terribly pale. Shakes wracked his body. Ashe had been in the cold a few minutes too long. The northern cold was not forgiving. Pulling off his gloves, Felix was thankful to find that all of Ashe's fingers were the proper skin tone, he wouldn't be losing any tonight at the very least.

As bad as Ashe looked, Ingrid was worse. Felix counted five arrows that had pierced her and were still lodged in her skin or armor. Felix couldn’t tell how bad they were, but by the paleness of her skin, and the amount of blood she too seemed to have lost, he knew she was in bad shape.

Felix’s vision clouded, his buzzed mind spun in circles, and all he knew was that he was completely, utterly, absolutely, going to _behead, burn, and eviscerate_ whoever had done this to Ashe and Ingrid. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

Ashe sat up and wrapped his arms around Felix in a hug. Blood smeared all over Felix and his disheveled robe. 

“I’m… I’m home?” Ashe half asked, half declared. 

Felix sat there in stunned silence, being hugged by the love of his life, freezing, cut up, and suffering major blood loss. 

The hug grounded Felix. He blinked once, let out a breath, and got to work using the healing magic that he was grateful Byleth had forced him to learn. “Cassius! Go tend to Ingrid, her wounds are worse, and you are the better healer, I can handle Ashe’s wounds.”

“At once!” Cassius bounded to Ingrid and began to heal her. 

Ashe’s eyes began to flutter, he looked up at Felix and said, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Magic flowed from his fingers, beginning to mend the wounds on Ashe. The skin of his chest seemingly sewed itself back together and stopped the blood from escaping his chest.

“Her wounds are… grave Felix. I must remove the arrows to heal her, but it will be dangerous.” Felix looked over at Ingrid and Cassius. Cassius spoke calmly but was clearly alarmed. Cassius had known Ingrid for all her life and Felix knew he loved her too.

“Do it Cassius, it's the only way to save her. You’ve healed worse wounds on me and Glenn before. I have faith in little in this world, but you're someone I can trust. Once she’s patched up at least to where she isn't bleeding, we need to get them to a fireplace. They need to warm up or we will have to worry about fingers and toes next.” Felix hoped his words would help Cassius focus on the task and not his nerves. Cassius got to work pulling the arrows out of Ingrid. Thank the Goddess she was unconscious, else she be screaming in pain right now.

Ashe sputtered, “Felix, I tried so hard, it was hell. So many chasing us, so many shooting at us. They tried to kill us. I dont… I don’t even know how we escaped. Lonato, Lonato is dead, my poor, Oh Goddess my horse. I might have pushed Ingrid’s Pegasus to death too, oh goddess, I made her fly so far and so fast.”

Felix grabbed Ashe’s hand. “Ashe. Ashe, relax.” Felix placed his hand on Ashe’s forehead, and brushed his hair back, out of his bright green eyes. Felix leaned in and kissed his forehead, trying to ignore the iron taste of blood. “Close your eyes Ashe, I will fix everything, just rest.”

Ashe smiled, and touched Felix’s cheek. He laid his head back, and let sleep take him.

What Ashe didn’t hear were the words that came after. “And when you awaken, and tell me who did this, I will disembowel, and burn them, and watch them die in agony for ever bringing harm to you, by that infernal Goddess do _I swear.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of my first work on AO3. This is going to be a long, multichapter, multiship, war epic with lots of feelings, and fluff, and smut. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it! I will be adding tags as the story progresses. Next chapter goes into the story of Sylvain and Claude in Almyra- see you there!


	2. The Desert Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain goes about a normal day in the Almyran Capital of Karaj, he takes in the city, and marvels at all the aspects of Almyran culture. He reminisces about his days at the academy, how he and Claude started this relationship, and some of the horrors he saw during the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now to Sylvain and Claude, although this chapter actually exclusively follows Sylvain and his daily routine in Almyra. Almyra is based loosely off of Persia and other Middle Eastern countries so I took the liberty of naming the capital and other characters with that in mind. I had a really good time adding some flesh to Almyra and always wished the game explored it more. 
> 
> This chapter will be uploaded a bit early because I always hate when I find a new fic and there is only one chapter out. Hope you enjoy! There will be lots of implied hotness in this chapter *Smirks.*

Almyra was… different from Fodlan. For one, everyone was an obscenely gorgeous tan color like Claude. For two, they were mostly tall. Even Sylvain, who was tall, felt small next to some rather burly Almyran men. For three, rather than nobility, and Fodlaner customs of etiquette and propriety, Almyrans tended to value strength. Strength of character, of convictions, and yes, good, old fashioned, physical prowess. Sylvain assumed this was why every single person he came across this side of Fodlan’s throat looked like they could press him to death between their thighs. The women were strong and fought back when skirt chasers attempted to woo them. _Sylvain took particular note of that._ He figured… he would be safe; he wasn’t really planning on chasing skirts. He didn’t even really like women; he finally had the ability to admit that to himself. He had acted like a total prick for many of his younger years, chasing skirts, breaking hearts, being an asshole. It was because he was hurt of course, but that didn't really excuse his behavior. Gaining the trust of a girl, and then breaking their heart out of the blue? Pretty dick move, Sylvain had to admit. He was done with that now; he had his sights on Claude “the Adonis” Reigen. OK, no one except him actually called Claude that, but he was determined to make the nickname stick. 

He broke from his train of thought by a loud yelp in front of him. One of the men who he guessed intended to get into that gorgeous girl’s pants, was currently being double clotheslined by her and a friend. He was knocked out _cold._ The poor bastard was going to be bruised in the morning. The woman and her friend raised their glasses, clanked them together, and put the drink down in three large gulps. 

Sylvain walked off towards the palace, rubbing his neck, and thanking the goddess that he had not tried to hit on an Almyran woman before. There were four Almyran people who Sylvain personally knew. Nader: Claude’s… assistant? Personal guard? Diplomat? Nader seemed to be damn good at almost everything. Cyril of course was from Almyra; now he was an officer at Garreg Mach. Azar was a woman he had met here in Almyra. She was the fierce and stoic captain of the elite Barbarossa corps of Almyra. Her armor, like Claude’s, was coated in gold; it, much like her, was ornate, beautiful, and fierce. She was actually a rather kind person in Sylvain’s experience, she had helped him get accustomed to Almyran culture, and get used to Almyran clothes, which Sylvain still sometimes struggled to get into. The looser fabric was aerated, and made survival in the Almyran Capital of Karaj, a city surrounded by desert, more comfortable. The style of clothing actually reminded Sylvain of the dancer’s outfit, which he had worn on many occasions, and in many battles. He would have to ask Azar if he could simply wear that one of these days. That was even more aerated and showed of his hot body. He had… modified it, removing the undershirt and underskirt, those damn things weighed the outfit down, and he didn’t like them. He also noticed… well, the people he danced for during the war were _much more motivated_ after he changed the design. 

Claude, of course, was also Almyran, not surprising considering darker skin tone usually meant Almyran or Brigid heritage. What _was_ surprising was hearing that Claude was the blood of Almyran royalty. Claude was essentially… double noble? Claude was a Reigen, of course, which had helped him gain control of the Alliance, before it dissolved back into Faerghus. He was also the son of the late Almyran king. The king of Almyra died young, apparently, he had been in poor health since he lost his leg in battle against some marauders to the far south some years ago; an assassination attempt finally ended his reign. Sylvain was slightly worried that the assassin would not take kindly to Claude, but so far… Claude’s reign had been a peaceful one, hopeful even. He had already done much to ease tensions with Fodlan. Hilda and her _hot,_ and Sylvain meant _HOT,_ brother had visited recently, toured the palace, taken part in traditional Almyran festivals, dances, and went home with Almyran armor and clothes, a gift of good faith. Sylvain would have pounced on the idea of getting a night in bed with Holst, that pink haired, sexy god, but he refrained. He really, really, _really_ liked Claude. He was _not_ going to fuck this up. 

He and Claude were seriously courting each other now, Almyra actually seemed pretty lax on relationships of this type; Sylvain often found women kissing women, and he once heard loud… moaning at camp, the figures inside the tent where the moans came from were both male, so Sylvain guessed Almyra was cool with this kind of thing. He didn’t know what that meant for succession, and… he really didn’t care. Claude didn’t seem worried, so Sylvain didn’t worry either.

Sylvain continued to the palace, the guards no longer attempted to block his entry every time he showed up at the doorstep. Sometimes they even waved back when he waved. He wandered back to his room and deposited the goods from the marketplace onto his table. Almyra had this godly drink, coffee. From the moment Sylvain tried it, he was instantly hooked, it was a miracle worker for bad mornings, cured headaches, and helped keep you awake for long nights. Sylvain hoped that one day, the wonders of coffee could be brought to Fodlan, it would certainly put pep in the steps of the people of former Faerghus territory. 

After all that walking Sylvain felt rather hot and sweaty. Thankfully the capital was built on a natural oasis fueled by underground catacombs and aqueducts; if the people of Fodlan thought Almyrans were foolish barbarians, well, they would be dead wrong. Sylvain found wondrous things every time he ventured out. He was about to go enjoy one of his favorite Almyran inventions, the cold-water spring house. It was a luxurious bath house for the royal family, and anyone they allowed access. Inside was a large pool with crystal blue waters which flowed from the vases held by statues, a chiseled nude woman and man. The water was clean, refreshing, cold, and so luxurious. Sylvain marveled at the fact that he could ever desire a _cold_ bath, but here he was, getting excited and giddy to go relax in cold water for a while. No one went during these hours except for him, he always had the place to himself. 

Sylvain walked the short distance to the bath house, or Heaven’s Cistern, as it was called by the locals. It was… aptly named in Sylvain’s opinion. He walked inside, stripped down and placed his dirty clothes in a basket. Then he walked forward and lowered himself into the clear blue waters. He let out a sigh as the cold water washed over him. Ah. Ah yes, this was nice. Sylvain could forgive the ancient Almyrans for choosing a desert as their capital region only because of their baths. He walked to the statue and stood under the flow from its jug. He could just feel the water wash away the dirt stuck in his hair and cleansing his body. The water today smelled of jasmine, a flower that was so rare in Fodlan. Each day the Cistern management added different scented oils, spices, or flowers to the water. Today was one of his favorites, he loved the scent of Jasmine. Sylvain smirked; he knew Claude liked the scent too.

Sylvain sat down on one of the steps in the pool. He laid back feeling at ease with life, watching blue light dance across the walls in a never-ending game. Petals from the Jasmine flower floated across the surface of the water, lazy, uncaring, much like Sylvain at this moment. The only way this could be better, would be if Claude were lazing beside him. 

Back when Faerghus had saved the Alliance with reinforcements and Claude had decided to dissolve the alliance and rejoin with the kingdom; Byleth had somehow managed to convince Claude to postpone his leave for Almyra. After the war, Sylvain found himself in Derdriu, and more often than not, in the company of Claude “the Adonis” Reigen. They rekindled their old flame that bad been lit at Garreg Mach, and when Claude decided it was time he go to Almyra, and take up his mantle as king; Sylvain asked if he could join. Claude broke into… such a radiant smile and told him of course he could. Sylvain became entranced in the dancing blues of the cistern as he began to daydream. 

\-----

Sylvain remembered years ago, when he had first seen Claude. He was twenty at the time, officer at Garreg Mach. Claude was seventeen, although he turned eighteen a few months after classes began during the Blue Sea Moon. Sylvain was a notorious skirt chaser then, he left broken hearts everywhere, flirted with every girl he could, and hurt as many as he was able to also. Claude took notice when Sylvain attempted to court Hilda… AND Marianne. Sylvain of course fumbled spectacularly with both. Hilda was not a fool… well, she was, but not that kind of fool, and saw through his ruse; Marianne was simply too deeply hurt inside to notice, or care, or respond to Sylvain’s advances. Claude did notice though. Claude noticed _everything._ Apparently, Claude noticed one day when Sylvain let his eyes watch Felix at the training ground a bit too long. It was early summer, during the Blue Sea Moon. It was hot outside. Felix was sweating, everyone at the training ground was sweating. 

Caspar launched a hefty strike with his training ax at Felix, Felix sidestepped and thrust his sword forward, Caspar caught the sword with his ax and almost broke it, but Felix deftly pulled the sword away. He launched a flurry of blows, Caspar dodged left, then rolled away to the right. He swung at Felix’s legs, Felix did a _completely unnecessary and totally hot backflip,_ and landed with a forward strike at Caspar. Caspar blocked with his ax and the two hopped a foot away from each other. They eyed each other down, neither one flinching. Caspar let out a large guffaw, and threw his Axe, Felix was caught off guard, but… Caspar was a lousy shot. The ax whizzed past Felix’s head, but Caspar didn’t give Felix a chance to think. Caspar was good with his fists, he launched forward and unloaded a flurry of furious blows at Felix. Felix, quick on his feet, dodged each one, hopped back, and executed perfectly _a very unnecessarily flashy spin attack_. Felix’s sword connected hard with Caspar’s chest. The match was won for Felix. 

Caspar was a good sport and walked over to Felix, he went in for a high five, congratulating Felix on his win. Sylvain expected Felix to come back with a snide response, but instead he actually returned the high five and clasped Caspar’s hand. 

“That sword move was AMAZING! The way you so quickly hopped back and then twirled around like WHOOSH!”

“I’m just lucky your ax missed me, if that had hit my head, I probably would have been knocked out cold.” Felix smirked; Sylvain knew that Felix was quite satisfied with that bout of sparring. “I thought I had won when your ax missed, foolish of me to forget about the most primal of weapons.” 

Caspar rubbed the back of his neck; he apparently wasn’t used to praise. Faerghus residents liked strength, Sylvain figured the Adresdian Empire did too, but… the members of Caspar’s house were all rather eccentric, Sylvain doubted they were one to praise his strength, or even give it much thought. It wasn’t surprising at all that Caspar had chosen to join the Blue Lions house. 

“I’ve seen you train with your fists before too Felix, wanna have a bout? Fists only?”

Felix’s eyes lit up; Sylvain knew he was in before the words left Felix’s mouth. “You’re on.”

“First though, it's so damn hot.” Caspar stripped off his shirt, then his undershirt, he also removed his boots, then his socks, and his pants. Sylvain was about to go stop him, but found Caspar was wearing his house issued training shorts and tights under his pants. “I hope you don’t mind, it gives more range of motion.”

“Not at all.” Sylvain’s eyes went wide as Felix unbuttoned, then removed his shirt, tossed his undershirt aside, took off his boots, socks, and then rolled up his pants. Sylvain placed his hand on the pillar next to him to steady himself. Felix couldn’t just do that, damnit, he was so hot. “Ah, that is so much better, I still can’t get used to the hot summers down here. I’ll be able to fight much better like this.” Next to him Sylvain heard Claude laugh.

“These two sure do take their training seriously.” Remarked Claude. 

“You have _no idea.”_

“They’re like Raphael, well, sorta. Raphael mostly focuses on building muscle, these two have muscle because they focus on their fighting styles. Rapheal’s fighting style… well. His fighting style _IS_ just his muscle.”

Sylvain broke out into laughter, “Yeah, he does seem the type. He seems to be a big oaf, but he definitely has a heart of gold.” 

Whatever Claude said next went right over Sylvain's head. He was too entranced at the match in front of him. Well, not the match really, he was just watching Felix. Felix was so perfectly lean, so perfectly cut, his arm muscles lean but strong, his pecs and abs well pronounced. He was graceful, quick on his feet, beads of sweat flying off his body with every movement, jab, and dodge. He was so focused on the match, his face serious but also smiling, a rare sight indeed. This was Felix’s domain, this was what he loved. The sight made Sylvain’s stomach do back flips, and his head spin, and his dick come to slight attention. Sylvain wanted to push Felix down and do _unspeakable_ things to him. Sylvain dreamed of biting Felix, right in the neck, he wanted to free his beautiful hair, and yank it from its bun. He wanted to fuck Felix until he screamed Sylvain’s name. Sylvain wanted to feel what it was like inside of Felix, his best friend of so many years, he longed for him. He always had. He wanted to see Felix cry, and unravel at Sylvain’s touch. Sylvain pulled at his collar attempting to get some ventilation into his hot shirt. Really, it was a poor attempt at distracting himself, his eyes remained transfixed upon Felix in front of him. 

It was a reflex, a simple reflex, but Claude caught it, and he also realized that Sylvain hadn’t heard a word he had just said. Claude smiled, a wicked twinkle in his eye. 

“Sorry, what was that you just said? It’s so so hot, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Oh, it's definitely hot alright. I was just saying maybe we should follow suit.” 

Sylvain was oblivious to the implications and heavy sarcasm that Claude was dripping with. If Sylvain had been listening to that which Claude had said, he would have heard Claude say, “That Felix has a heart of gold too, and muscles of steel, there are very few people here as sexy as him.”

Claude broke into his most shit-eating, scheming grin. He was going to have fun playing with Sylvain. 

Claude stepped out in front of Sylvain “Yo Sylvain, I hear you’re working on your flying? Wanna come train with me?”

Sylvain who realized he needed to get the hell out of here before he became completely erect, jumped at the opportunity, “heck yeah, let’s go.” 

Claude turned on his heel and walked off with Sylvain in tow. They were definitely not going to work on flying, oh no, Claude had so many schemes for Sylvain right now. Most of them involved a bed, naked bodies, and a whole lot more heat. 

Once a safe distance from the training grounds and any eavesdroppers, he made his play. “Unrequited love sucks huh?”

Sylvain’s face drained of color, “What?”

“I said, unrequited love sucks. I would know, the boy I like doesn’t give me the time of day.” 

Sylvain made an attempt at regaining his composure, “Oh? Who’s the boy you like?” Sylvain gave his best attempt at a confident smile. 

Claude grinned; this match was already _over._ “He’s tall” Claude stepped up to Sylvain, “from the frigid north” he took another step, “has an award-winning smile” another step closer, “he doesn’t actually like women” Claude was staring at Sylvain in the eye now.

“Whoa whoa. What are you saying?” 

Claude cut him off by stepping so close his nose was almost touching Claude’s “and he has the most perfect red hair, with a look that says I got out of bed looking this good.” Claude winked. All the cards were on the table. The look in Sylvain’s eyes told Claude all he needed to know. _Victory was his._

Claude leaned in and kissed Sylvain, sweet, exploring, but short. He pulled back. Sylvain looked into Claude’s jade eyes, and he grabbed Claude by the waist, pulling him into another kiss. Their eyes fluttered shut, and Claude opened his mouth, allowing Sylvain to explore. Claude tasted like tea, and he smelled like sweat and pine needles. Sylvain licked into Claude’s mouth; their tongues slapped together in a dance. Sylvain ran his tongue around Claude’s perfectly kept teeth and bit at Claude’s bottom lip. Sylvain withdrew from Claude then, eliciting a whine from the other boy.

“Why did you stop?” Claude asked. Realization dawned on him then. “ _Oh.”_ Claude smirked and his eyes flared with mischief. “It looks like we have a visitor.” Claude reached out then, he stopped just short, and gave Sylvain a questioning glance. Sylvain just nodded, his lusty eyes surveying Claude. Claude continued, and grabbed their visitor. Sylvain moaned. He felt really good and didn’t know what the hell to do with Claude beckoning him so seductively other than say “yes, yes, absolutely yes.” Claude grabbed Sylvain's hand and started walking towards the greenhouse and dorms.

“What say… we head to my room? No one is in the dorms right now; everyone is either at dinner or sweating in the training hall. I would rather sweat in my room, preferably with you, either above or below me, either is fine.” Claude grinned, and leaned in to whisper in Sylvain’s ear, “Would you like to go exploring with me?” 

Sylvain was entranced in Claude’s eyes. “Hell yes.”

Claude lead Sylvain back to his room then. They definitely explored that afternoon, Sylvain struck gold, and Claude saw the heavens open up above him. Claude got an afternoon with the boy who he had been watching for many moons now, and Sylvain had his first relationship that he was not hell bent on destroying. They met every so often in Claude’s room, on lazy afternoons to explore more, Claude gave Sylvain the company he needed, and taught him how to not be such a shitty human being. Sylvain slowly got over his unrequited love for Felix and came to have more and more feelings for Claude. Claude attained the pleasure of this hot redhead’s company, the boy he had been lusting for, and quickly grew to genuinely like, and then, perhaps even love. 

It became a common sight to see them eating together, training together, and actually practicing flying together too. Outwardly, it looked like the two had become good friends, laughing at each other's jokes, embracing in hugs. Sylvain and Claude kept their relationship well hidden; Claude was a genius after all, and Sylvain had not abandoned his heart breaking just yet. But, every few days, on an afternoon where no one was around, if you listened closely enough, you could hear the wet, sweet, and passionate sounds of love emanating from the student dorms.

Everything changed when the war began. The two were separated, they had homelands to defend, people to save, and survival to focus on; they did not see each other until that horrible day at Gronder field. That was the day that six of their former classmates had their lives cut short, Claude personally witnessing as Raphael fell; his muscles did nothing to save him from the ice magic that encased him. It was the day that Sylvain watched an axeman bury his ax in Felix’s chest; it was a pure miracle that Byleth had managed to save him. It was the day that Sylvain and Claude both were pierced by arrows and fell from their wyverns. Former lovers reunited on the battlefield, injured, alone, afraid, they found each other, as they crawled along the ground. Sylvain clutched Claude close, and cried, Claude held him, stroked that beautiful hair, now caked with blood, which just blended into the red. Marianne, who was officially aligned with Faerghus found them. She healed them both, and bid Claude run, because Dimitri had lost his mind. She watched as Claude kissed Sylvain and promised to find him if they both survived this war. He climbed back atop his gallant white Wyvern, caked in blood and dirt, and flew off.

\-----

Sylvain broke from his reverie. It was getting late now, the hues of blue ceased to dance, and the cistern filled with beautiful orange and red light from the setting sun. His fingers were shriveled, and he shivered a bit. He knew it would be cold soon, nights in the desert tended to be as frigid as in the north. 

He climbed out of the bath and walked over to grab a towel from the rack. The Cistern would have his clothes sent off to wash and deliver them back to his room sometime tomorrow. He dried his hair and wiped the water from his body. Sylvain felt refreshed and clean, he really loved this place. He wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped into his sandals, setting off for his room. Almyrans were not so prudish as the residents of Fodlan, no one in the palace gawked at the sight of Sylvain walking back to his room wrapped in, _gasp, ONLY A TOWEL._ Sylvain smiled, he could get used to life here, there was no shortage of responsibility, but it was just… freer here. Sylvain was on Claude’s council as an advisor to the King and Adjutant of Fodlan Affairs. Another thing that Fodlaners would be surprised to know, Almyra had a rather advanced bureaucracy and ruling system. Sylvain continued walking, passing by the Adjutant of Coin and Finances. His fellow Adjutant nodded to Sylvain as they passed by each other. Yes, Sylvain could get used to life here, he might even adopt less modest outfits, the weather here was still scorching hot after all; although, not quite as hot as his body. Sylvain smirked, he knew that Claude would certainly approve of him wearing even less clothing.

Sylvain saw Nader ahead, he seemed to be talking to two of the Barbarossa corps, they were burly men with large beards, all three of them were stroking said beards. That bit of Almyran culture was something Sylvain was not such a fan of. Most of the men, though some in higher positions refrained, wore large unruly beards. Sylvain knew this was the reason that Claude had grown out his… less than perfect sideburns. Claude was a hottie, an eleven out of ten, even with the burns, but Sylvain really, really, did not like the facial hair on him. Sylvain wasn’t going to attempt to tell Claude how to live his life, and what to do with his facial hair, although Sylvain did find it extremely hilarious that Claude had full body waxing sessions, yet still kept his burns. The Fodlan blood in Claude made it difficult for him to grow much of any hair, and a beard was definitely not going to happen. Almyrans still admired strength over facial hair, and Claude had more than proved his strength by personally leading the Barbarossa corps to victory against the southern tribal wyvern raiders, on more than one occasion. Once Claude had settled in more, Sylvain hoped the burns would go.

Nader called out to Sylvain. “Hey! Sunset! Come on over here!”

Nader called Sylvain sunset, apparently because his hair reminded Nader of the setting sun. Sylvain had not understood until they arrived at the capital. During sunset the rays which bounced off the sand shone in a most beautiful vermilion. Sylvain found sunrises and sunsets here to be the most spectacular he had ever seen. The only other natural phenomena that topped Sunsets in Karaj were the Goddess Aurora of the far northern Gautier provinces. 

“Yo Nader.” Sylvain waved and walked over to him and the guards.

Nader gestured the Barbarossa commanders leave them, the two wandered off.

“Have you uh… heard from anyone?”

Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “Head from anyone who?”

Nader rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Anyone from Fodlan. It’s been… well over a month since the last communication with anyone from the Government of the FFF.

Sylvain knew FFF stood for the new name of the unified Fodlan. The Faerghus Federation of Fodlan, Sylvain wondered who allowed Dimitri and Byleth to do the naming, it was really, really, quite an awful name. But, FFF had a nice ring to it; credit where credit was due Sylvain supposed.

Sylvain thought for a moment. His last letter from Ingrid had been three months ago, Felix had sent a letter dated about a month and a half ago. He had recently received a letter from Petra in Brigid, but Sylvain figured that didn’t count. Sylvain was officially the Adjutant of Fodlan Affairs, but Almyra knew little about lands west of Fodlan, so he handled dealings with Brigid too. He had not received a letter from Dimitri in well over four months now, not really all that surprising since he was restructuring the Federation. Officials of his would be the ones to send official word to Sylvain anyway, the last official letter he had received was… three months ago. 

Sylvain relayed this information to Nader, who still seemed concerned.

“I wonder why they haven't responded to us. The last official communication we sent was regarding their purchase of twenty thousand of our thoroughbred Wyverns. We have received neither a confirmation they wanted them, gold, or renegotiation.”

Sylvain remembered this deal; he and Claude had actually traveled to Fhirdiad to negotiate it directly with King Dimitri. It was extremely odd that they had not received any communication afterwards. 

“Hmmm. That is… slightly concerning. I sent an official envoy about two weeks ago, they were due back two days ago, but bad wind could have delayed them, or a sick wyvern, or anything really. When they arrive back, I’ll make sure to inform you.” 

Nader had to admit that Sylvain was good at his job, he was a very intelligent man, and Claude seemed rather smitten with him. If Sylvain hadn’t been capable, there was no way he would have been accepted by the High Adjutants into their ranks, and Nader had specifically vouched for his addition. 

“Understood, I'll leave it to you then!” Nader slapped Sylvain on the back jovially and bellowed a laugh. 

Sylvain flinched a bit, but smiled back at him, Nader was a genuinely enjoyable man to be around.

“By the way.” Nader leaned in to whisper to Sylvain. “Claude asked me to give this to you.” 

Nader slipped Sylvain a letter stamped with the Reigen crest, Claude still used the Reigen letter stamp for personal letters; the Almyran coat of arms stamped every official letter and proclamation. 

“Huh. Well, thank you Nader.” 

“No problem Sunset.” Nader waved and sauntered off towards the dining hall.

Sylvain walked the rest of the way to his room and let the towel fall. Sylvain felt no reason at all to dress and so grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit on his table and reclined on his bed. Sylvain opened the letter and read the contents to himself. The apple fell from his mouth mid bite.

“Oho. Well then.”

Sylvain stood up and opened his dresser. Apparently, he _was_ going to need clothes, at least for a little while, he suspected they would be discarded rather quickly. Sylvain looked through his dresser, uninspired by any of these outfits. Then he had a most splendid idea. Claude was going to _love_ this. Hiding in his dresser, was his old dancer outfit. Sylvain stepped into some underwear, and then took the flowing fabric in his hands. He placed his one arm through the sleeve and tied the rest of the gown at the waist. He decided to get fancy, and put on a golden choker, circlet, and arm bands.

Sylvain did a twirl and watched the fabric spin around his sexy body. Oh yeah, he _definitely_ still had it. He was going to charm the pants off of Claude tonight, quite literally. He wondered what Claude would be in the mood for tonight. This getup might make Claude feral, perhaps Sylvain was going to get to enjoy Claude’s sweet, perfect penis inside him tonight. Perhaps Claude was going to prefer to be dominated by Sylvain in this outfit. Sylvain didn’t know but was buzzing with anticipation. Sylvain grabbed the lewd letter and placed it in one of the folds of his outfit and proceeded to dance out of his private room, gliding across the palace grounds to Claude’s personal quarters, where Sylvain knew, he was going to have a _wonderful_ night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times are coming to Almyra~ eventually. Next chapter will focus on Ashe and Felix, and fair warning, it will be purely fluff and smut, definitely a porn with plot chapter. I hope you are excited to read it! I will be posting one chapter every four days from now on.*


	3. Fervor in Fraldarius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe awakens from his near-death experience to find himself safely in bed next to Felix who is supplying him body heat. He notices Felix having a nightmare and decides to chase it away; but having just survived a traumatic event, he's in the mood, and Felix will wake up to a most wonderful sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been practically dying while waiting to publish this, I was so excited. This chapter is going to be 10% fluff and 90% smut, while being 100% Ashelix. I hope you ALL ENJOY!

Ashe opened his eyes. A dull ache permeated his body. His eyes fluttered shut, and when he opened them again, he remembered. The furious escape: arrows flying at him and Ingrid as they rode away. His horse being shot in the eye, falling, falling, crashing down, the wind being knocked out of his lungs, the arrow in his thigh. An enemy, slashing at his chest, blood, searing pain. Ingrid being shot by a volley of arrows, but somehow yanking him aboard Glena, her Pegasus, and flying furiously away, as high as they could while still breathing, but being pursued by Wyvern archers too. Blood, his and Ingrid’s everywhere. An arrow grazing his forehead, red in his vision. They must have flown for a day, nonstop. Ashe holding the reigns and onto Ingrid when she fell unconscious, flying far north into the blowing winds and blisteringly cold snows. _Felix, I have to get to Felix._ These were the only thoughts that sustained his long, cold, bloody journey to Felix’s doorstep. The wyvern riders eventually turned back, wyverns hate the cold, thank the Goddess they had flown into a snowstorm. He remembered crash landing into the Fraldarius Stable, startling all the horses, as their winged sister fell through the roof. Glena was exhausted, she had been pushed to her limit, and immediately went to drink water from the trough. Ashe hauled Ingrid to the front of the manor and banged loudly on the door. The door opened.

“H... hey, uh Cassius.” 

Cassius’s eyes grew wide, and he threw the door open taking one of Ingrid’s arms and helping Ashe haul her in. 

“Felix, I-I need Felix.”

Cassius dashed off in a most un-butlerly way, Ashe couldn’t believe the old man could run with such speed, and chuckled to himself despite the dire situation they were all in. 

Ashe knew Felix was coming by the furious banging of doors. Felix burst into the reception hall. Ashe remembered going red at the sight of Felix, yes, they had been together many times, Ashe had seen the full body blush of Felix many times, but it had been months since they could be together, and seeing Felix in such a tousled and aroused state brought a furious desire to Ashe, despite the severity of the situation. What happened next was a blur, all he remembered was watching Felix, and Felix telling him to rest.

Ashe was awake now and knew he must be in Felix’s mansion. Ashe next became acutely aware of two things: firstly, he was naked. Secondly, he was very very warm. Ashe looked around; he was in Felix’s chambers. Ashe heard a moan from behind him. There lay Felix, holding onto Ashe for dear life, face scrunched up in his sleep. Ashe knew this to mean he was having a bad dream. Ashe realized Felix was naked too; he knew that they were in this state of undress to warm his cold body up but that knowledge still did nothing to stop the sudden burning of desire from deep within his soul. 

Ashe flipped over to face Felix, a difficult feat considering the strength in Felix’s arms and the fact that Felix had entwined his legs with Ashe. Ashe giggled, they fit together so perfectly, Felix was so perfect. Ashe looked at Felix, _his_ Felix, his most trusted friend, his greatest ally, his most wonderful lover. Ashe’s heart swelled to the point he thought it might burst. 

Ashe set to waking Felix from his nightmare, as he usually did when they were together. Felix had chronic nightmares it seemed, and Ashe would often wake hearing Felix calling for Glenn or his father. 

“Ashe” 

Ashe stared. Felix was calling for him. 

“Please, no. Come back.”

Ashe leaned in and kissed Felix’s forehead. He lingered there with his lips to his head, taking in the moment. He breathed Felix in, this was a different Felix than he was used to. Felix smelled like soap and leather, this Felix smelled like roses and the scent of old books. Ashe knew Felix enjoyed baths; Cassius must have drawn a rose bath for him today. Ashe surmised that Felix likely didn’t have the time to train anymore, and he knew that this was about to change. Ashe set back to his task and pulled Felix closer, his face now resting against Ashe’s chest. 

Ashe ran his long, dexterous fingers through Felix’s long, indigo hair. Felix was perfect in every way, but of all the things that made Felix physically beautiful, he loved his hair most. He loved running his fingers through that hair, messing it up, ruining his bun, or his ponytail. Felix loved it too, Ashe knew; not that Felix would ever admit it unless perfectly inebriated. Felix stirred a bit against his chest. Ashe could feel his heart pounding and felt a problem arise in his southern regions, Goddess it had been so long since he was with Felix. 

Ashe smiled, and pulled the covers down a bit revealing their upper bodies. Ashe marveled at Felix, and his perfectly chiseled, lean body. Ashe looked at all the scars that crisscrossed his torso and thought about one of his favorite past times; kissing each and every one, licking them, placing marks over them, overriding every terrible memory of obtaining that scar with a new one, of Ashe making love to Felix there. Ashe was very uncomfortable down low now. He cursed himself under his breath, he was trying to awaken Felix, not make himself aroused. There was no denying he _was_ aroused, and he knew what Felix had been doing last night before the… sudden visit. Ashe decided that Felix would forgive him if he was a bit naughty right now.

Ashe pulled the covers away and marveled at Felix’s body again. Ashe loved Felix, Ashe loved making love to Felix, Ashe loved treasuring every part of Felix. Ashe noticed a papercut on Felix’s right index finger. Ashe giggled, and then started to laugh, his Felix, who had faced down arrows, swords, magical blasts, axes and lances, and one time a bear, was now only getting paper cuts on his beautiful fingers. Ashe picked up his hand, and kissed Felix’s newest battle wound. Above his hand, there was the large scar left by a stray lightning blast, it had healed in a lightning pattern, and almost looked like a tattoo, if you didn’t know what you were looking at. He and Felix both liked this one, it suit Felix well and was an inspiration for Felix to try his hand at magic again- hilariously enough, Felix was only good at lightning magic. Ashe moved in close, and peppered little kisses across the lightning pattern, it wrapped around his arm, up to his shoulder, down to his forearm. Ashe left kisses all along the path. Felix stirred, but did not wake, he didn’t seem to be having a nightmare anymore, and Ashe knew that he was going to wake up to a very wonderful sight. 

Moving away from his arm, Ashe moved to the prize, Felix’s chest was home to… it had to be over 50 scars, small grazes, some large cuts and gashes, some had been life threatening. Thank the Goddess that their army had fielded so many healers, Linhardt, Mercedes, Marianne, Dorothea, even Byleth. Ashe giggled, Felix always acted like he didn’t like this, but Ashe knew he was lying, he was sensitive around his nipples, and around his stomach, Ashe remembered the muffled moans Felix made when he did this. And if he did this to Felix’s back? Felix was never able to hide the arousal when Ashe kissed his back. 

Felix had one scar, very small, on his collarbone, an arrow had pierced him and been stopped by the hard bone. Ashe started there, he leaned in, getting the heavy scent of roses, completely intoxicating; he licked the arrow scar and kissed a scar next to it left by a dagger wound. He trailed down Felix’s body. On his peck Ashe licked the length of a very large scar where someone had buried an axe into Felix’s chest. Felix stirred again; Ashe knew this was a sensitive one. He licked its length again, and began to suck on it, just above the nipple, and below the collar bone. He moved back, admiring the marking he left, and kissed up and down the scar again. He moved to the other peck, there was a slash wound just below his right nipple, this was the perfect excuse to play with his nipple, and Ashe always took it. Ashe licked up his peck, over the scar, and over Felix’s nipple. He licked it again, and again, and then pinched at his nipple with his teeth playfully. Then he began to suck on him. Licking over him, gently biting at his skin. Felix’s nipple was hard, and swollen, and such an enticing shade of pink. Ashe licked it one more time. 

“Ashe… what are you...”

Ashe ignored Felix’s awakening, and instead licked his nipple one more time, pinching the other lightly with his hand. 

Felix’s breath caught in his throat, cutting off any other words he might have been about to utter.

Ashe climbed on top of Felix then, naked, and aroused, it must have been quite the show, and he knew how red he must be, not from embarrassment, but arousal. 

“Felix.” Ashe sputtered.

Then Ashe leaned down close and hugged the man who he loved more than any knightly tale, or chivalrous act, the one who he would be a scoundrel for, or a vicious beast to protect. His erection was clearly a little drippy, and getting all over Felix’s chest, but he figured, Felix would forgive him. 

Felix breathed his silver haired, freckled, and lean lover in. Ashe smelled like iron, they had sponged the blood off, but it would take a full bath to remove the scent. But Ashe still smelled like Ashe. He still smelled like mahogany, the wood of his bow, and like flowers. Felix often put a flower behind his ear, and he usually kept it there, perhaps he had been putting flowers behind his ear all this time they had been apart. Ashe was already the epitome of sunshine and happy thoughts, but add a flower, and he was downright radiant, with a smile that could dispel the darkest and coldest of Faerghus winters. Felix pushed Ashe back just a bit, and sat up, pulling him back into the embrace. They remained like this, just hugging, breathing each other in, savoring their moment for what seemed to be hours. It was funny how time seemed to stop when they were together.

“You scared me almost to death. You were so bloody, you were so hurt…” Felix squeezed harder, as though Ashe had any intention of escaping. “I thought I was going to lose you. I-” Felix choked.

“Are you… crying?”

“Shut up. I’m not.”

Ashe pulled away and looked at Felix, who attempted to turn his face away. Ashe gently moved his face to face him and leaned in.

“I had faith that you could help us, that you would save me. You never fail me, I bet on that.”

“What if I had? What if… what if I had lost you, how would I live in this...”

Ashe leaned in and kissed Felix with a burning passion, cutting off his sentence. Ashe brought his hand to Felix’s head and began to stroke his beautiful hair. Ashe licked Felix’s lips, and Felix allowed him entry. They kissed, deeply, tongues entwined, breath hot. Ashe licked the roof of Felix’s mouth, and Felix groaned. Felix wrapped his arms around Ashe and pulled him closer, and then on top of him as he laid back. Their erections touched, and knocked against each other in this position. Felix moaned. They kissed more, whispering “I love you” and “You are so perfect” and a plethora of other sweet words that they had been missing for so many months. Ashe kissed the few tears that had broken from Felix’s fatigued eyes.

“I’m here, Felix. I don’t intend to leave you. If I do, then I know you would come beat me up!” Ashe giggled.

Felix’s heart felt like it would burst, he loved this goofy little former thief, with fingers oh so dangerous. 

“What happened Ashe?” Felix’s face went dark. “Who did this to you?”

“Felix. It’s the middle of the night. We haven't been together in months. Yes. Something dire has happened. Yes, we will talk about it in the morning. But please, right now… all I want is you.”

Felix sighed, he knew Ashe was right and he could not deny how much he wanted Ashe right now; he was already fully erect, and dripping, just from the kissing. Well, probably from Ashe kissing his body too, the sneaky little theif.

“Besides. I saw you earlier. I interrupted something quite important.” Ashe giggled in such an innocent, yet naught way. Ashe really was lethal to Felix. “I intend to finish what you started.” Ashe leaned in with a naughty smirk on his face. 

Goddess help him, Felix was totally screwed. If Ashe were to ask Felix to walk naked through the snowstorm outside, Felix would have done it. 

“Ashe…”

“What do you want me to do Felix?” Ashe was teasing him, Felix still became flustered when asked what he wanted, Ashe looked like an angel, but teased like he was nymph. He was very naughty and playful in bed, something that Felix could still hardly believe was the case but was secretly grateful for. 

“I want you to…” Felix stopped short. 

“What is it Felix?”

Felix reached out to Ashe and ran his calloused hand across his chest.

“Ashe.” 

“What?”

Ashe looked down, and saw what Felix was touching. Ashe had a very large scar on his chest from where the swordsman from yesterday had slashed him. The cut had been deep enough to cause much bleeding, but not deep enough to hurt his organs; the scar that remained was very large and pronounced. Felix ran his hand across the length of the scar. The touch left Ashe feeling tingly, it no longer hurt, but it was very raw. It stretched across his chest, in a diagonal line under his right peck, over his belly button, and stopped where his body curved. 

Ashe was about to say something about it being ugly, but Felix stopped him by doing something most unexpected.

Felix leaned in and licked the length of Ashe’s newest scar. 

Ashe let out the most adorable, the most intoxicating, the most wonderful yelp.

“Felix!”

Felix licked him again staring up at Ashe with eyes full of six months of pent up lust. Ashe convulsed at the feeling of Felix’s tongue licking his sensitive, newly healed skin. Felix peppered kisses, and sucked on the skin, licked the skin and watched as Ashe devolved into a whimpering, aroused, dripping mess. Oh, oh, Felix _loved_ this. Ashe always made Felix come apart, but this. Watching Ashe come apart under Felix’s touch was, _intoxicating._

Felix pushed Ashe down into the bed, Felix was going to have his way tonight, he was so pent up, so aroused, so full of love for this silver haired boy, he needed him like a desert wanderer needs water to live. For the first time in six long, dreary, painful months, Felix felt alive. 

Felix leaned over, and grabbed the bottle of oil, which he had not put back into his nightstand with all the craziness going on earlier that evening. He handed it to Ashe.

Then he turned around, his hind quarters facing Ashe.

“Prepare me. While I prepare you.” Yes, Felix was feeling confident tonight, he needed Ashe, he _needed_ this, to feel human again. 

Ashe was about to respond, but Felix licked at his scar again, and ran his fingers down its length. 

“Felix… you… hahhhhhhh” another lick. “You are so… so different tonight.” He convulsed again as Felix began to suck at the end of the scar, where it disappeared to the curve of Ashe’s torso. Ashe moaned.

Felix dripped onto Ashe’s chest.

“Ashe, please, start preparing me. I need you.”

Felix moved from his scar, and instead licked the opening of Ashe’s erect penis. Felix tasted Ashe’s sweet precum. He held Ashe’s dick with one hand, ran his tongue up the shaft, back to the head, where he swirled his tongue around, and into the slit again.

Ashe felt like he was melting. He dipped his fingers into the oil. This was going to be difficult to do while Felix made him come apart like this. Felix so rarely did this, usually Ashe got to do the teasing, usually Ashe got to watch as Felix came spectacularly apart. Ashe didn’t know how to think anymore.

And he loved it. 

Felix continued to lick Ashe’s shaft, to tease the slit and slowly stroke him with his hand. Ashe brought his middle finger to Felix’s entrance. He massaged at the pink flesh.

“You must like doing that. You got harder again.”

Ashe convulsed a little as Felix took him into his mouth, and then pulled out again. 

Felix turned to look at Ashe, drool, or precum, or both dripping down the side of his mouth. 

“Look at you Ashe. You are so, so red, so so cute. I thought about this every day while we were separated. I imagined what I would do to you.”

Ashe’s finger slipped into Felix; the massaging had loosened his muscles. Ashe began to feel around inside his lover. Teasing him, never actually touching the spot that would break Felix.

Felix sighed a little, the finger was good, but not enough; he knew what Ashe could do. Those fingers… they were dangerous. They were good for picking locks, good for playing the piano, good for cooking. They were the best at making Felix melt. His long perfect fingers could make Felix cum at any time he wanted. Ashe had fingered Felix into dry orgasms many a time; yes, his fingers were _dangerous._

Ashe pushed his finger in and out, slowly, way too slowly, Felix knew Ashe was trying to counter tease him. Ashe usually had the power to destroy Felix, and for his part, Felix loved being destroyed by Ashe. Felix retaliated, and licked Ashe’s scar again, then he moved to Ashe’s thigh, and bit down, hard. Not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to elicit a loud and aroused yelp from his silver haired prince. Felix sucked on his thigh. Licking at the mark, sucking some more.

Ashe jabbed at Felix’s prostate, _hard,_ and he smiled as a drop of precum fell from Felix and onto his stomach. Ashe inserted another finger now, slowly, so as not to hurt Felix. Ashe felt Felix’s muscles stretch to accommodate another visitor. Ashe coaxed those muscles to relax, massaging against his walls, withdrawing his fingers, and then carefully thrusting back in.

Felix groaned loudly.

Ashe smiled, they had never done this kind of one-uppery before in bed, he _loved_ it. 

Then Felix did something completely unexpected, he reached back, dipped his finger into the oil, licked up and down Ashe’s erection, and moved his finger to Ashe’s entrance.

“Wha...”

Felix cut off the word about to leave Ashe’s mouth, as he began to massage Ashe’s entrance. Ashe violently convulsed. The fingers Ashe had inside Felix pushed down against Felix’s prostate, and Felix yelped, in a most fantastic manner. 

“Felix, I thought you wanted…?”

“I do, I want you inside me. But… you like it here too, don’t you?”

Ashe did. Ashe usually topped, because Felix loved to bottom. But Ashe loved Felix’s dick, he loved it being inside him. And Felix was very good at fingering too. 

Ashe moaned as Felix’s finger slipped inside him, Felix went right for the prize, and rubbed at Ashe’s prostate. Precum leaked from Ashe. 

“Ashe. Who says we need sleep?”

Ashe giggled, but the giggle was cut off by a yelp elicited by Felix rubbing his prostate again. 

“I mean it Ashe.”

Ashe figured Felix wasn’t lying either. “Good. We have… a lot of time to make up for.”

Felix’s muscles had relaxed enough. Ashe inserted his third finger into Felix and began to make shallow thrusts into his perfect lover. He pulled his fingers out, and thrust back in, scissored Felix a little bit, then pulled out again. He thrust his fingers in again, harder this time, and scissored some more. Ashe could feel Felix’s muscles relaxing further, and he smiled. 

Felix inserted his second finger into Ashe, stretching him out some more. And giving a stray lick to Ashe’s dick. Ashe squirmed a little, and Felix jabbed at his prostate with his fingers. Ashe let out a hefty moan and rocked down into him. 

Ashe retaliated by pulling his fingers out and jamming them back into Felix. Felix choked on the air he was trying to breathe, stammered a little bit, and then pulled his fingers out of Ashe. 

“Ashe. I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?” Ashe teased.

Felix turned around, crawled to Ashe, dipped his fingers in the oil, and slathered it all over Ashe’s dick. 

Then he positioned himself over Ashe, and in one quick motion, plunged Ashe’s dick inside of himself. 

Ashe let out a surprised yelp, and Felix reveled at the thickness inside of himself. 

“Ready for that.” Felix sputtered out. Felix felt so… so full… and so good. And, he had surprised Ashe.

“Felix……. Are you ok? that was ahhh” A moan cut off his sentence. 

Felix cut him off by shallowly thrusting his body downwards.

Felix leaned in and whispered to Ashe, “Those fingers of yours, they never disappoint, and they certainly don’t do the job half assed.”

Ashe burst into laughter.

Felix was left completely confused.

Ashe continued to laugh.

“Felix! Oh my Goddess Felix you are so, so damn cute.”

“I… what? What are y…” Ashe cut off his question by thrusting up into Felix, and grabbing his penis. 

Felix melted at the movement. Ashe took over, shallowly thrusting up into his lover, slowly, painfully so. 

“You… You uh” Ashe continued his slow thrusts upward, Felix leaned over placing his hands on Ashe’s body to support himself. “You made a joke.” Ashe laughed some more, and pumped Felix’s penis, up to the top, where he ran his finger over the slit, coating it in Felix’s precum. 

“I.. ahhhhh I what?” Felix groaned loudly and rocked his hips downward into Ashe. Felix arched his back and lifted his head to the sky moaning even louder. Commonly they did this quietly; the walls were thin in Garreg Mach, but… this was his house. He loved Ashe, he loved Ashe’s penis, he would be as loud as he wanted goddessdamnit. He arched again, thrusting down into Ashe’s upwards one. He saw stars in his vision, he felt lightning rock his body as Ashe pounded his prostate, over, and over, and over again. He was panting now. He was melting, his body was melding to Ashe’s in a way that only they could meld. He was red, his face, his shoulders, his body. He was blushing, he was full of love and lust. He leaned down and kissed Ashe’s freckles, on his cheeks, on his shoulders, he bit at Ashe’s neck, and sucked, leaving a pronounced mark. 

Ashe thrust harder and pumped him harder. “You said I never do anything half assed.” Ashe giggled naughtily and sank back into the bed, pulling out of Felix as far as he could while Felix was atop him, and thrust up into Felix hard, pumping him hard at the same time. Felix’s breath hitched, he ground down into Ashe.

Realization dawned on Felix at the accidental innuendo he had made. He stopped moving and covered his eyes with one hand. Then be blushed a shade or three more crimson, which Ashe didn’t think to be possible. “Awwwww Felix, what?” Ashe thrust hard into him; Felix ground down. “You didn’t… you didn’t know how damn cute you are?” 

“I am not cu...” He was cut off as Ashe grabbed at his ass, pulled his cheeks apart, and thrust into him with such force that Felix thought he might be finished off right there. 

Ashe laughed with such a dirty look in his eyes. “Yes Felix, yes you so are.” 

Felix didn’t have the mental space to argue anymore. 

“Ashe. The next time you do that, you’ll finish me off.”

Ashe smiled, “Do you want to cum? Do you want me to let you to finish?” 

Felix remained as stoic as possible, grinding down into another thrust. 

“You're not answering me Felix.” Ashe stopped moving, Felix groaned in frustration.

Felix steeled himself. Then he reached down, and pulled Ashe up, the precum on their bodies, from so much foreplay, from all the pent-up desire for so many months slicked around their now touching bodies. Felix looked into Ashe’s surprised eyes, he leaned in, and spoke with total clarity...

“Ashe. Fuck. Me. Harder.”

Ashe almost came. Felix was so hot. Goddess help him, he would do anything for this man. 

Ashe and Felix set a new rhythm. Ashe groping Felix’s ass, Felix sucking on Ashe’s neck and grinding into every thrust. The sounds of their panting filled the room, the snows whistled furiously outside, but inside, it was as hot as Brigid in the summer, with even less clothes.

Ashe was a demon in bed, he thrust into Felix at such a perfect angle that he always hit Felix’s prostate, each thrust made Felix come undone, and he began to pant and moan into Ashe’s neck. Felix felt his mind going blank, his body began to hum, and he lost control of the ability to hide his voice, he melted into Ashe’s arms; Ashe relentlessly and perfectly continued his pounding, eliciting so many beautiful words and reactions from Felix. He loved to do this, he loved to make Felix abandon his shell. Felix was dripping everywhere, his precum coating Ashe's hand and stomach. The tightness inside Felix had brought Ashe to the edge and he was about to fall over.

“Felix” Ashe panted. “Can I, I’m about to…”

Felix barely squeaked an answer, “Do it.”

Ashe pulled Felix’s cheeks apart. He pulled out as far as he could, he looked Felix in his lust filled eyes. And Ashe thrust so far and so hard into Felix that they both saw stars and unleashed their orgasms. Ashe filled Felix with his jets of cum, his pent-up desire and love, and Felix launched his stream up their chests. Felix ground down savoring the residual pleasure of their orgasms, Ashe licked at Felix’s arrow scar on his collarbone, and pumped the last of Felix’s orgasm from his penis. 

Their orgasm attained, Felix remained seated atop Ashe’s dick, and they kissed. Romantic, passion filled kisses, savoring every moment. Drool bridges connected them when they pulled away for air, panting and desperate. Ashe bit at Felix’s lips, and Felix licked into Ashe’s mouth, their tongues slapping together, as their bodies had already done. 

They were still erect. 

Felix pulled himself off Ashe and flipped him onto the bed. Ashe looked up hungrily at Felix, ready for what came next. Felix positioned himself near Ashe’s entrance, ready to continue their night together.

Their cries, their panting, their lust, and love, and affections, and words of encouragement could be heard through the night. Outside the storm was cold and lonely, but inside? Inside love and passion burned well into the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After what they went through, these boys deserved to let loose with each other I think. They are so perfect for each other and deserve nice things, which makes me slightly sorry for what will eventually be coming. Next chapter is Petra and Caspar in Brigid! I usually mainly enjoy the gay ships but Caspetra was adorable in game and I loved both the characters, so here they come, next update will be on Wednesday!
> 
> I had some ideas for little side stories that I'm going to make and compile in a collection. They'll take place in this timeline but all be able to be read stand alone too. Most of them will probably be smutty or domestic rot your teeth sweetness as those tend to be my two moods. Be on the lookout for those, I'm just going to upload those as I finish them, rather than on a schedule! (Also I'm planning a continuation of this scene to be my first one *smirks*) I'll post a link to the collection in the next chapter probably.


	4. Peace in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar and Petra enjoy peaceful days in Brigid, their marriage ceremony is in a few months and the two are happy and contented with life at last. They go about their day as normal, together, blissful, and with lots of affection. However, their peaceful days might soon come to an end when a visitor crashes on the sandy beaches of Brigid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic fluff? Domestic fluff. These two are adorable and deserve nice things. Caspar and Petra had great supports in the game and made me laugh. Also, I had an idea and ran with it, I hope you enjoy! Also, again, I really love world building, and fleshing out regions of the game that were only mentioned in passing.

Caspar looked out over the crystal waters of the sea, a color so similar to his hair. Lazily, he blew a stray strand from his face. His hair was getting long now, he had decided to grow it out a bit, at Petra’s request. Now it covered his left eye, all the same, he had lost that eye in the siege of Enbarr anyway. A large scar ran down his face now, another among many present on his body. His eye was still intact; it had healed the damage but a visible line down the middle existed, and he couldn't see anything out of it anymore. That attack had almost killed him though, he had already taken a fireball to the back earlier in the battle; he had been bleeding, and burned, and dying. Petra had dragged him from the front lines riding atop her Wyvern, Linhardt had healed him just in time to save his life. His eye was a lost cause though; if there was a silver lining, he had really atrocious eyesight in that eye all his life anyway. He figured that scar looked pretty cool, perhaps other people didn’t think so, but he and Petra did.

A cool sea breeze blew in from the waters, his hair fluttered back, and the sea spray said hello to his face and chest. He breathed in, the sea smelled so wonderful, it didn’t taste nice, but it smelled great. Here in Bridgid, the sea was everywhere, even farthest into the jungle, you could still make out the smell of the sea, Caspar really enjoyed that.

When he was young, he never got to see the sea. Yes, he was a nobleman’s son; no, his father never took him anywhere. His brother and father were both dead now, buried. Caspar had grieved for them, but moved on. Neither had loved Caspar all that much; his father loved his oldest son most and practically ignored Caspar’s existence most of his life. He had deigned to send Caspar to the officers academy only to increase the prestige of his household name. Caspar’s brother meanwhile, often treated him as his personal punching bag. It had taught Caspar to grow strong, and be able to take a hit, but done nothing to teach him about familial love. His father always took his brother with him to Enbarr, but never Caspar. Caspar had grown up to be the invisible child, uncared for except by his mother, who passed away young, and the servants whom he befriended. Now, he was the sole Bergliez alive. Just as well he figured, his father and brother were terrible people, and he missed them more for the thought of what could have been, than what actually was. 

He allowed his eyes to close, the sea continued to spray him, but he didn’t mind one bit. Bridgid had done much to help him relax, he didn’t have the same itch to go brawling or training that he once did. He still trained, he was still fit, and in shape, and if Petra was to be believed, very handsome; no longer was training his first priority though. The spray came again, it splattered over his uncovered chest. The sea was so nice, and the water so cold against the heat of the sun. He enjoyed coming out here, just after lunch, and lounging about in the sun, maybe Linhardt had a point about the value of naps after all. 

Caspar was broken from his relaxation by a prickly feeling on his chest. He opened his eyes to see what was intruding on his peace time, and lo and behold, it was a crab. 

“Well, hey there little guy! What are you doing walking all over me? I’m not the ground!”

The crab ignored Caspar, and continued to walk on his chest.

Caspar squirmed and started to laugh.

“Hey! Quit it! That tickles!”

The crab finally scurried off, apparently afraid of Caspar’s squirming. 

Caspar was not used to being tickled, Petra often tickled him as well. She was such a tease, poking his side in the middle of dinner, making him laugh so hard he cried. Without his armor, he was weak to tickling, and the people of Brigid wore far less clothing than Fodlaners. It was something that Caspar had immediately taken to, it was hot here, and clothes only got in the way of his mobility. There was a reason that Caspar always chose to wear the armor of grapplers in battle, he liked the free range of movement it offered. Currently, and in fact for the last year and half, all he wore were a pair of rather short shorts, many woven bracelets, gifts from the inhabitants of the island, and from people whom he befriended. He also wore beaded necklaces, much like Petra’s, and of course, a marking under his eye, just like Petra’s and everyone else's. It was a marking of protection, it invoked the spirits and asked them to give him guidance and peace wherever he went; the bright blue took some getting used to under his only good eye, but now it was a calming presence. Everyone’s markings matched the color of their hair, and so his was a bright blue. Petra often also made him wear a ring of flowers woven together around his neck, blue dawns to be specific. They were a light purple more than blue so Caspar didn’t know why they were called blue dawns, but whatever. He liked the smell of them so he never complained when she placed them around his shoulders. Petra commonly wore what she had worn since they all returned to Garreg Mach; it was common female wear here in Brigid, airy, light, and quick. 

Overall, Caspar just loved Brigid. He loved it more than Fodlan. It was the best place he thought he had ever seen; Derdriu and Enbarr were gorgeous cities, Derdriu actually floated on the water, but Brigid was just too perfect. Of course, Petra was here too, the human of his most amazing dreams. 

Petra was queen now, and Brigid finally found some peace. She was fostering positive relations with both Dimitri and Claude. She had common correspondance with Dagda to their west. Trade between Dagda and Fodlan was even stopping in Brigid, and the island chain was thriving. 

A shadow cast over Caspar, lazily he opened eyes, and smiled. 

“I thought you would be found here. You seem to have much enjoyment of the beach here.” 

Petra’s long purple hair tickled Caspar’s nose, she was leaning over him and smiling.

“Have I mentioned I love the ocean yet? Because I REALLY LOVE THE OCEAN!”

Petra giggled, and sat down in the soft and warm sand beside him. “I have much gladness that you like it here. You make everyone’s happiness so much bigger, mine as well.” Petra blushed a little, and leaned over to kiss him. Petra smelled of tropical flowers, and the sea, two of Caspar’s most favorite things now that he lived here. He closed his eyes and met her lips; there they lay, kissing for what seemed to be hours. Time always seemed to stop when he was with her. She was as calm as the ocean tides, yet fierce as a crashing wave, and twice as beautiful as any person Caspar had ever seen. Her hair tickled his nose and he began to laugh against her lips.

“Petraaaa, your hair, it ticklesssss.”

Petra began to laugh too, and jabbed him in the side.

Caspar let out the most hilarious and high pitched yelp. “HEY!”

Petra laughed in earnest and jumped up, dodging Caspar’s attempt at a grab. Curse her assassin like reflexes. Caspar jumped up too. 

“I’m SO gonna get you this time.” 

“Hmmmmmm, well, I doubt that greatly. You never have been able to capture me yet Caspar.” 

She broke into a run down the beach. 

“HEY! NO FAIR! YOU GOT A HEAD START!” Caspar called after her.

“Speed makes right! Right?” She called after him.

Caspar often got teased for mixing up the saying “Might makes right” and accidentally saying “Right makes might.” He groaned. “Awww, not you too Petra! I THOUGHT WE WERE SPECIAL!”

Petra laughed and continued to run.

Caspar chased after her, but she was way too fast, and Caspar was not good at running in the sand. 

Slowly, Petra made her way back. “Given up so soon already? I thought you would be made of tougher things than that.” 

“AH! COME ON! I’m not used to running on the sand!”

Petra stepped in a bit too close, ready to tease again; Caspar lunged at her, and tackled her to the ground, gently of course, he wasn’t trying to hurt her. They tussled a bit, Petra was no slouch. Often times when they wrestled like this, she got the upperhand and pinned him down. Well… it was more like most of the time. Her legs were long, and she was extremely flexible and dexterous, neither of which was Caspar. They were both laughing now, trying to pin each other, every time Caspar almost had her, she would slip from his grip, and attempt to counter pin him.

Petra gained the upper hand when she wrapped her leg around his arm and held his other arm down with her own. Caspar stopped struggling, “OK OK, you win again Petra.”

“Yes! I did indeed! That makes seven in a row Caspar, you should be practicing more!”

“SEVEN? NUH UH, that's gotta only be like three right?!”

“Nooooo, that is number seven now!”

“AH COME ON!”

Petra giggled, “You should be working on getting more flexible, your muscles are already well big. Just ask any island male and they will assist you in being flexible.” 

“How can I be flexible with big muscles?”

You should see my cousin and his boyfriend wrestle, both are very strong with muscles, and both are very flexible. Muscles and flexible are not...” Petra frowned and readjusted her word choice, “You can be both at the same time!”

“If it means I get to win once in a while, then I just might!”

Petra smiled and looked over to him.

“Hey, uhhhh, could you maybe let me go now? My arm is stretching, and it hurts.” 

Petra smiled, and leaned in to kiss him, making no movement to unpin him. After a moment, she pulled up for air, and released him from her iron grip. 

“Dinner will be beginning soon, we should go back to eat.” 

“Mmmmkay.” But Caspar pulled her into a hug, making no clear movement towards the community dining area. 

“Caspar, we should be going to eat.”

“I don’t wanna.” 

“Casparrrrr.”

“Petraaaaaaaaaaa” He mimicked.

Caspar buried his face in her neck, and took in the scent of her beautiful hair. Petra began to pet his head, he loved to have his head stroked like this. 

Petra wrapped her arms around him and began to trace pictures on his exposed back. He was starting to tan she noticed. He was not nearly as fair as when he had first arrived here. She continued to trace her fingers around his strong back and smelled him too. The overwhelming scent of the sea radiated from him. He was a child of the sea and she doubted he would ever feel at home away from it again. 

After a few minutes like this, close, affectionate, he released her, and she took his hand leading them towards where they would feast with her people. Her grandfather was not dead, but had abdicated the throne to her upon her return from Enbarr, with Caspar in tow. It was customary for each town to eat dinner in a large hall covered by a thatch roof. Community was everything here and despite their royal status, Petra and her grandfather, as well as her extended family, always ate alongside their people; they made friendships among them, lived near them, and died with them. It was a practice so different from Fodlan and in Caspar’s opinion, so much better. How could royalty know about the plight of their citizens if they were not actively involved in their lives? This sense of community, of working together, of loving each other was so foreign to Caspar. Never in his years had he felt it; he certainly never got it with his family. 

As they walked towards the dining hall, Caspar remembered his first day here. He was to be introduced to the village; the capital of Brigid was a small city by Fodlan standards, about ten thousand people only, and the city had five dining halls protruding away from the royal table in the center of town. Caspar remembered the fear he felt, he knew Petra forgave him for the deeds of his father, but would her people? Caspar felt ill at ease, his stomach churning in horror at what he was about to do. He remembered Petra grabbing his hand and her leading him to the raised area where her family, the royal family, sat. He heard gasps as the people saw him, he knew it was over at that moment; one of them was going to throw a javelin at him or something and get revenge. He scrunched his eyes closed and braced for whatever was going to come next. Then he heard something. It was something he had not expected at all. There was an abundance of crying.

Caspar opened his eyes and looked out. Many people, male and female alike were crying. Then he heard cheers break out, clapping, and jovial cheers. Caspar was… completely confused. “Iiiiiiiii might not have been honest about something Caspar… I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“What?” Caspar was confused, what had Petra lied about?

A rather buff, obscenely tall, elderly man stood up behind them. He raised his hands motioning for everyone to calm down. The cheers persisted however, and the people began to sing. The old man smiled, and wiped a tear away from his own eye.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh.”

The old man looked to him, his hair was a bright orange, tied in a braid and hanging down his back. He was handsome, even as old as he was. The old man walked up to Caspar, and hugged him. “Welcome home.”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?”

The old man pulled away and smiled, “Petra? You never told him?”

“UHHHHH Told me what?”

“Come, sit child, you too Petra.” The man beckoned them to sit at the table, looking out at the people who continued to sing and drink and eat.

The three sat down and the old man introduced himself. “Dear child, I am Petra’s Grandfather. My name is Lantana.” He reached out and shook Caspar’s hand. “Fodlaners still shake hands in greeting yes? It has been some time since I went to Fodlan.”

“Yes, yes they do sir. What… What did you mean by welcome home? And what did Petra not tell me?”

The old man smiled, he was quite wrinkled now, but his eyes were some of the kindest Caspar had ever seen. “Look out at the people Caspar. Tell me what you see.”

Caspar obeyed and watched the people. “I see… celebrations, drinking, rejoicing, lots of glasses in the air, lots of people enjoying themselves.”

“Yes, good, all of those are true. They rejoice for _you_ are here.”

“But.. Why? My father killed so many, I thought they would hate me!” 

The old man gave a sad look to Caspar. “You are not your father child. Here, we do not punish the child for the sins of the father. Even if we did, it was a war we were dragged into beyond any control. We were damned if we joined, and damned if we chose not to. Neither was your father a villain in this war, he was sent by his country to repel invaders, he was not unkind to us when my son fell. He treated us fairly, and with respect, all while obeying his orders. We would never hate you for the way your father treated us, even if he had been horrible.” 

“But…” The old man continued, “Even if we _did_ hate him, we would still rejoice to see you.” 

“Why? I’m not special. You don’t even know me yet.”

“Look out again boy, pay close attention to our features this time. What do you see?”

Caspar obeyed. “I see a darker skin tone than my own, it's a rich golden brown. You all braid your hair, like Petra.”

“What else? Specifically about our hair?”

Caspar looked… and realized what the old man was asking. “You all have really colorful hair. Lots of colors are here. I see orange, and red, and blues, and purple, there are colors I never thought someone could have for hair.”

“There is your answer boy. We are happy to have you here _because you are of the blood of Brigid_.”

Caspar almost choked on the wine he was drinking. “What?”

“Your hair. It is blue, like the sea, and like so many flowers here. You are of Brigid.”

“How is that possible? Neither of my parents are from Brigid, and I’ve seen my family tree! There was no one of Brigid blood down the line.”

“What color was your father and your mothers’ hair?”

“Well… my dad was brown haired, and my mom was blonde.”

“Your brother?”

“He was blonde too.”

“And you?”

“... My hair… has always been this color, blue.”

“Here in Brigid, we have a legend about the creation of our islands. We believe in the existence of all the gods, of all faiths, and believe each and every legend and story is true. The Gods created Duscur, the Goddess melded Fodlan from the sea, the great creator crafted Almyra. The spirits founded Brigid. Each island was made by one or more spirits, using their power over nature to raise the earth from the primordial waves. On their islands they created plantlife and animals. The spirits are creatures of passion and mischief, they enjoy originality, and fun. Because of their free spiritedness, we have crabs with legs longer than two fully grown men, flowers of every hue and color, many of which are poisonous; we have the most exotic fruit, one which stinks worse than a man who never bathed once his whole life, yet tastes as though it was blessed by the divine. We have the most magnificent animals, the legendary horned horse, lizards that become invisible, birds with brilliant feathers. Brigid is a place of wonder, created by playful spirits, it can be seen everywhere.”

The old man closed his eyes as if imagining the beginning. Caspar was entranced in his story, and the wonder of it all. The Goddess of Fodlan was all powerful, and Brigid believed in her existence; but wow, their creation story was so different, so special, so interesting. Caspar leaned in and continued to listen.

“Brigid lacked something the other lands had however. No human life walked among the forests or played in the ocean. Brigid was devoid of our kind. The Four Great Spirits convened, and decided to remedy this fact. They looked across the sea, to Fodlan, and saw the creations of the Goddess. They were quite impressed at the intelligent life the Goddess made. The spirits decided to combine their efforts and create something similar, but with their own special flare. The spirits saw the beautiful bark of the trees of the many islands, and decided their people would have skin similar in shade to that. And thus residents of Brigid are darker skinned, to match the trees. The spirits saw the nature of Brigid, the brilliant colors, and decided to employ it elsewhere as well. The first humans they created all had hair of magnificent hues. The first five women and five men each had a hair color different from each other: Yellow, Orange, Green, Blue, Violet, Red, Pink, White, Cyan, and one almost translucent as water. These ten people populated the islands of Brigid, and our people became a distinct group, human, yet different from others. If, out in the world, you see a person of hair color different from the natural hues, they have the blood of Brigid in them. Brigid blood is stronger than any other, and so if even a hint of our blood is in them, their hair will be a rich hue of a special color, just like yours. Green is an exception to this rule; in Fodlan, the Goddess was a fan of the color, and after the first generation of our people, green disappeared from our hair, in honor of the friendship between the Goddess, and the spirits.” 

Caspar sat in stunned silence, he was still attempting to understand what this meant. It probably meant that Hilda had an ancestor from Brigid, maybe Marianne too, Bernadetta… whom it still hurt to think about, and others. He still didn’t understand something though.

“Wait. If the blood of Brigid is always strongest, why do neither of my parents have colored hair?”

Petra’s grandfather shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “Child, it means your father lied about who your mother was. Your mother was a woman of Brigid, or at least someone who had our blood, though I do not know who. Your mother could be a number of people, who may or may not even be alive now.” 

Caspar’s world was shaken, he didn’t know what to believe, this was all so much to take in. His mother, did she know? She was always so loving to him, so kind, perhaps she knew but loved him anyway? Then… she died young, and his father died in the war, he only had the words of Lantana to go off of, and the old man didn’t strike Caspar as a liar. He remembered eating in silence next to Petra and her kind grandfather, lost in his own thoughts; Petra seemed worried. Eventually he spoke up. “Tell me more… Tell me more about Brigid. I’m going to be here for a while after all.”

Petra relaxed, and Lantana smiled, and spoke to Caspar about their history, customs, and culture well into the night. 

Now, Caspar was one of the children of Brigid in name and deed alike. These people, they were his people just as much as Fodlan was. He had found his place here, among people who loved him, accepted him, praised him for his work without pitying him. There were no restrictions here, he could befriend anyone, laugh and talk and play with anyone, train with anyone. Nobility was not so stifling here as Fodlan, and no one ignored him simply because he was second in line. Well, he was first now since his brother was dead, though he had renounced his nobility. Any which way, they wouldn’t have ignored him like so often happened in Fodlan.

Tonight, like many nights before, he feasted at the great hall with Petra and Lantana, enjoying the music and the reverie, drinking exotic drinks and laughing. It was a good night. After a while, he and Petra stole away to the beach, to be alone for some time. 

The two lazed in the sand, Petra was teaching him to braid the Brigid style. Caspar was still terrible at it, but he was determined to succeed. He ran his fingers through her lovely purple hair, combing out any small tangles, getting ready for attempt: five thousand something at braiding. Even though he was not good at it yet; playing with Petra’s hair and attempting to braid it was something he loved to do. He felt at ease as his fingers began to criss cross her hair. 

“Our wedding is approaching Caspar.”

Caspar stopped braiding for a moment, he wasn’t afraid of it; Caspar had become so used to Brigid, and to being with Petra, he forgot most days they had yet to formally tie the knot. “The Ethereal Moon huh?” It was still two moons yet to the arranged date of their formal union. Slowly but surely it approached. Caspar continued to braid her hair, gently, with much care.

“Caspar… would you be happy here?” Petra seemed worried about it.

Caspar’s response was instant and fierce, “Yes.”

Caspar tied off the braid, it was better than other attempts, but still not perfect. He turned Petra around to face him; he looked her in the eyes, and held her hands in his, bringing them to his lips. He kissed her hands, and pulled her into an embrace. “Petra, I love you. I love Brigid. I love it here. This is my home now. You, the island, and the people are a part of me that cannot be removed.”

Petra beamed with joy, and nestled up next to Caspar, the nights never got quite cold here, but they were significantly cooler, and neither of them were wearing particularly heavy clothing. The pair sat there for a few minutes, whispering to each other, looking out at the ocean, calm and serene. The moon cast its glow on them, bouncing with the tides. A breeze gently lifting their hair from their faces. Petra looked to Caspar and ran her hand over the cheek under Caspar’s ruined eye. He took her hand and kissed her palm. They embraced again, and then began to kiss. Sweet kisses, full of affection, full of peace and tranquility were shared under the bright moonlight. Gently they joined their tongues, there was no rush. They had yet to lie together, and the two were content to take things at their own pace. Petra ran her hands down Caspar’s sides and he shivered, stimulated by her light and gentle touch. This time it didn’t tickle, he wondered why. Their lips parted and they both took a moment to breathe, their foreheads still touching. They regained their breath, and stared into each others eyes. 

Caspar smiled, and loosed the hair he had just braided. He wanted to run his fingers through it. Petra caressed his head, and ran her fingers through his hair too. “Caspar, you do not have to keep your hair long if you do not wish it.”  
“I know, I happen to like it longer though. My scar tends to scare the children anyway, and I like playing with the village kids in the afternoon.” The village children had this fantastic game where they kicked around a ball attempting to launch it across the field and into a net. Caspar was terrible, and always fell flat on his ass when he attempted to kick the ball. It was a hilarious spectacle, and the kids as well as their parents, always laughed. Caspar enjoyed it though, he loved kids and they had taken to him quickly, he was like a big brother for once, and he loved it. 

Caspar shivered again, Petra was still stroking his hair without a care in the world. “We are really funny huh? Most couples would be doing other things right now, but here we are, kissing, and playing with hair. I like it. I love how at ease I am with you. I love you Petra.”

He leaned in and began to kiss her again. Between kisses and shallow breaths Petra responded fondly, “I love you too Caspar.”

A sudden crash sounded about a hundred yards away. Caspar and Petra both immediately looked to the noise, startled and broken from their romantic moment. 

On the ground lay what looked like an injured wyvern, and a man, coated in blood. Caspar and Petra stood up, alarmed, and ran to the man and his wyvern. “Caspar! Run to my Grandfather! He is a healer!”

“Right!” Caspar took off in a sprint towards Lantana’s large bungalow. 

Petra arrived next to the crash site, and glanced at the wyvern. It had… already gone to the next life. Arrows pierced the great creature’s neck, and body. The creature had arrow holes in its wings, and there was blood all over the sand. Petra wanted to cry for the great creature, but instead she laid her hand on its gallant head, and closed its eyes so that it may rest the final rest. The man moaned in pain and regained consciousness. Petra focused her attention to him. Perhaps he could be saved.

“Help is on the way to us.” Petra assisted the man in unbuckling from his mount and set him to lay out on the sand. 

“No time. I’m... not going to survive this.” The man began to lightly sob. Petra took a good look at his wounds. She knew he was right. Her Grandfather was the best healer in Brigid, but he had lost too much blood. There were arrow wounds all over his body, in his arms, legs, chest, and back. It… it was surprising he was even conscious right now, the man should have already joined his wyvern. “I’m going to fly through the clouds with my girl over there soon enough.” His tears slowed and his face hardened in resolution. “I.. I have a message for King Claude.”

Petra’s eyes widened and she spoke, “You are… a great distance away from Almyra. You have landed in Brigid, I am its Queen. How have you ended up this far?” 

“I…” The man winced and began to cough up blood and spittle, Petra grabbed his hand reassuringly. He must have been shot in the lung. He sputtered, but was determined to finish his quest. “King Claude sent me and a few envoys to negotiate with King Dimitiri about a trade deal of wyverns. We… We were accused of... I fled with a friend. We were...” Pain entered the man’s eyes and his words ceased to make sense as he attempted to speak everything on his mind at once. 

“Please, please finish what you had to say! Please fight!”

Instead, the man reached into his shirt, and pulled out a scroll of paper. “That.. read it… I wrote...” Blood came pouring out of his mouth and he painfully coughed.. Petra gave his hand a squeeze, which she hoped was comforting and reassuring. The man looked into her eyes, sad, but grateful. After wrestling with the blood in his throat, and likely his lungs, the man lost his struggle. His eyes glazed over, and he was gone. Petra placed a hand over his face, and closed his eyes. Petra was used to death now, she had fought in the war. She had watched friends die. As she had done many times before, Petra said a small prayer for the fallen.

“Spirits… guide these two souls to their paradise, and may they find blissful peace.”

She arranged the man’s hands over his chest, and placed a flower from her necklace atop them. Petra stood up and heard shouts from behind her.

Caspar and her Grandfather, as well as a few of the village healers were in tow. 

“He and the wyvern are both gone to paradise already.”

Caspar’s head fell, and a sad look passed over her Grandfather’s kind old face. “He… he said he was accused of something. He was from Almyra, and was on business to Fodlan. He meant to speak with Dimitri about trade. Those were the words he gave before… before he could not give any more. He left me this.” Petra showed them the scroll.

“Come my children. Let us return to a lit place so we may read his final words for ourselves.” 

Caspar cursed, “DAMNIT!”

Lantana placed a hand upon his shoulder, and squeezed, he placed his other hand on Petra’s shoulder, and brought them into an embrace. They stood like that for a moment, sad, and confused, but determined to find out what had happened. The three of them made their way back to town to read his last words, Behind them, the tides rolled in and cleansed the beach of the blood. The body of the man, and his beautiful beast would be burned in the morning, their souls released to paradise. Petra looked up sadly, and prayed that they would enjoy their flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I had to ruin your happy blissful days Petra and Caspar, I really ammmm, but the story must go on. Next chapter is more NSFW: Porn with plot. Claude and Sylvain are going to get it on, I hope you look forward to it!


	5. Sweets For The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude is tired and feeling a craving for something sweet after a long day at work. Sylvain is happy to oblige his liege with the sweet treat he so desires after performing a little show. Yes, it is good to be the king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, have some unrepentant smut. I really enjoy writing these two together because they just have such a chemistry. I had a good time crafting Claude's royal clothes this chapter- they're based off of Egyptian wear that shows off the body. Almyrans like a strong and healthy king- so does Sylvain, enjoy~

Claude felt stiff and tired. Some days, ruling was fun; he liked dispatching marauders and negotiating trade deals. He got to use his wits and his world class charm with those, he got to lead and enjoy the fight. Visiting dignitaries always brought fun too, sometimes a game of chess, which Claude never lost, sometimes diplomatic finagling, always a treat. What Claude hated about ruling though? In a word: Paperwork. There was tons, and tons, and  _ tons  _ of paperwork to be filed, and filled out, royal proclamations to be made, things in need of stamping. Claude hated  _ that  _ part of the job. If it had been earlier in the day, Claude would have gone on a flight with Xerxes, his shining white wyvern but there were no longer daylight hours. All the same, he would have to just do something  _ else  _ he supposed.  _ There were other ways to ease the fatigue of a day at a desk stamping papers.  _ Instead of Xerxes, he would just have to ride _Sylvain,_ so he penned him a letter, stamped it with the Reigen crest, so Sylvain would know it was a personal missive, not an official one, and handed it off for delivery. Claude wished he could see the look on Sylvain’s face when he read the letter, it was a doozy. 

Claude knew Sylvain would be in the bath house right about now, and as tempting as it was to go there now, Claude resisted. Instead he bathed in his own personal tub, making sure to clean himself well,  _ very well _ , and placing orange skins in his bath water. He would smell fragrant and enticing when Sylvain arrived. 

Claude climbed out of the bath, and dried off. He took a loose orange peel out of his hair and moved to the large mirror. His body was smooth, hairless, he hated body hair. He wasn’t a very hairy person but he still waxed it all off every couple weeks. Claude saw his face in the mirror. He was handsome but he frowned at the side burns invading his face. He knew beards were big in Almyra but heck, he couldn't _and wouldn't_ grow one. Sick of the burns, he made a decision.

Claude took his razor, and shaved his sideburns off. He smiled at the man standing before him, he looked younger without them, not as young as his school days; his body had filled out. He was still lean, but more broad shouldered now. He rubbed his now clean chin, and deposited the razor back to its place. He felt much better now, more comfortable. 

Claude stepped out onto his veranda and looked out, the moon was going to be full tonight. The sun had been chased beyond the mountains already and the sky was a mix of warm hues being chased away by darkness. A cold night breeze blew at him; he shivered a little, and felt his nipples harden against the cold, the body sure was a strange construct.

He enjoyed looking out at the city during twilight. Almyra still buzzed with life at these hours, parents cooked dinner and the smell of spices drifted through the air. Children could be heard laughing as their parents attempted to wrangle them inside. Claude had a hard time growing up here, but now he felt more at ease. Almyra had accepted him finally, and all of his plans were coming to fruition.

Claude stepped back inside, and deposited his towel in the basket. He was tempted to greet Sylvain in the nude, but he had to admit, stripping slowly, taking their time, and enjoying every moment was fun. So he decided to dress a little, just a bit, just enough to make Sylvain hungry for him. A stroke of wicked inspiration struck the king at that moment. Oh he was going to make Sylvain go absolutely  _ feral.  _

Claude walked into his grand closet, lined with clothes for every occasion. In the back, hung his most important outfit, his Royal Vestments. Almyran Royal Vestments were not like those of Fodlan. There was no long and flowing cape, no suits of armor or a large scepter with a gemstone. There was a crown, but it was not the same as Fodlan either. The ugly and pointed crown of the former Adrestian Emperor sat heavy upon Edelgard’s head, and the Crown of Faerghus was beautiful, yes, but undoubtedly heavy. Almyra had more of a Royal Circlet, which sat lopsided upon his head, gold leaves attached to the band and inlaid with gems in the front. Sapphire, Emerald, and Topaz shined brightly and gleamed in the light when worn.

The Crown sat in a glass case in the back of his closet, his vestments hanging next to it. The vestments were, Claude had to admit, regal, but in an entirely different way than Fodlan’s vestments. The Royal Vestments of Almyra were crafted in such a way that the might of the King could be properly displayed to his people. As such, the Vestments included a skirt like object called a Shendyt stitched with golden thread and white silk. Over it was worn a belt of leather that had silver plated lappets hanging down; these each had a royal gemstone ingrained as well. A golden armband engraved with the head of a lion and two small topaz gems for eyes went above his right bicep. Over his chest was worn… well, no traditional clothing. Instead the King wore an Usekh that was like a necklace but rested atop his shoulders. There were three connected strands comprising the Usekh, each dazzlingly beautiful. The first strand was Golden and had large Topaz gems inlaid across it, the second was similar, but had sapphires, and the last had emeralds. It was entirely different from what Claude had ever imagined royal vestments to look like, especially having lived in Fodlan. Hilariously, when Nader told him what he would be wearing for his coronation, Claude accidentally spat out the coffee he had been drinking. He felt naked, and exposed, which… he was. This also seemed to be the point. 

As king, his people needed to see he was healthy, strong, fit, and able to rule. Strength was important to Almyra; it was the ability to defend from all attack, and the ability to wage war whenever needed. The Almyran Vestments served the same purpose as Fodlan’s, they created an air of awe, and wonder. They proved strength. If an Almyran king was weak, lazy, and rested on his laurels, the people would see when he had to don the royal vestments. There would be no scars, no muscle, no might. A strong king, a king fit to rule, would have a body that proved the fact. Claude had to admit it was a brilliant way to hold the king accountable, even if it did ignore the mental prowess also needed to rule a kingdom. Thankfully, his mind was strong, but so was his body,  if Sylvain’s insistence on calling him _ King Claude “the Adonis” Reigen  _ was any indication. 

A… slight side effect of having to wear the vestments was that Sylvain found them incredibly hot. When Claude had official business to conduct, he would find Sylvain standing quite uncomfortable and in need of some special time with his liege. Sylvain loved nothing more than to enjoy the king in all his _ Regal glory.  _

Claude took the Usekh off the wall and put it on. It was surprisingly light despite all the gold and gemstones. He took the circlet and placed it upon his head as well, lopsided to favor the right ever so slightly, just as was intended. In times of war, the circlet would be tilted left instead. Claude looked at the shendyt and belt. He couldn’t actually wear those tonight. They were impossible to clean and if they got covered in… bodily fluids, well, Nader was likely to kill him and take the crown for himself. Instead Claude put on a simple white shendyt made of cotton, similar to what he would normally wear, but able to be dirtied safely. He opted out of underwear, and was totally nude underneath the skirt. A shiver passed through him, due to anticipation, rather than the breeziness.

Claude walked out of the closet donning his royal vestments that Sylvain loved so much. He looked himself over, and had to admit, he was pretty damn hot. Kings were surely allowed a small dose of vanity right? Claude plopped down onto the bed, and waited for his red Sunset to arrive.

Outside the red sky had almost been chased away by darkness, it would return again like a Phoenix in the morning, strong as ever, making its journey across the sky as it always did. The final red hues faded from the sky after what seemed like eons, when finally a knock came from his door.

He was about to answer but the door opened; and in strolled Sylvain. In strolled Sylvain wearing an outfit that would only be considered scandalous by Fodlan standards. Claude’s greetings caught in his throat as he watched Sylvain smirk slyly and do a spin, letting the fabric bellow out around him in waves. The door shut behind him.

Finally finding his voice, Claude greeted the other man, “Well. Hello there dessert.” 

Sylvain, for his part, also seemed to be stunned by the sight in front of him, as he often was when Claude wore his absolute best. A flash of the most lustful look entered the red boy’s eyes, and was quickly chased away by an easy laugh and a wink. “Well hello there… my  _ Liege.”  _ Sylvain made a most graceful bow; upon standing up he pulled a piece of parchment out of his robes and proceeded to read aloud: “Hair as red as apples, so perfect that it baffles, cream so fresh and sweet, it is  _ you  _ I want to eat, come visit me in my castle.” 

“You know, out of all the hundreds of poems and love letters…” Sylvain carefully and slowly undulated his hips as he walked towards Claude, a piercing gaze transfixed upon him, tongue flicking out and wetting his lips. “that I have received over the years,” Sylvain stopped in front of Claude bringing his hand to Claude’s chin and turning his face upward. “I have never,  _ ever  _ been so thoroughly smitten” Sylvain leaned in close to Claude, their cheeks touching as Sylvain began to whisper in his ear. “Than when I read that in my room and imagined all the things I wanted to do to you.” Sylvain pulled away from Claude’s face, and kneeled in front of him. Sylvain held both hands up, and Claude rested the hand with his Riegan ring in Sylvain’s. Sylvain brought the ring to his lips, and kissed it, making sure to linger quite a few moments too long. “What can your dessert do for you this most wonderful evening,  _ Your Highness?” _

Honey dripped from his words, but Claude could see the cracks in Sylvain’s facade. Sylvain was excited, his eyes constantly darting back to his favorite parts of Claude’s body. They rested a moment too long upon Claude’s nipples, and towards the armband that Sylvain thought was so hot. They rested upon Claude’s muscled thighs, covered by the skirt, not knowing there was nothing beneath it but his royal Scepter and Jewels. 

“Dance for me, that's your job after all.” Claude watched with amusement as Sylvain dragged himself away and into the middle of the room.

Sylvain posed with one arm above his head, the other splayed out to the right, standing on the tops of his toes, and he began to dance. It was a dance so dazzling and sexy that Claude could feel more desire than he knew he had welling up inside him. Sylvain was so suggestive, and so sexy. The way he undulated his hips to an unhearable rhythm, the way he made the cloth billow out around him when he twirled, the way he would look directly into Claude’s eyes while running one arm down the uncovered side of his chest; they all made Claude so amazingly hot under the collar he wasn’t wearing. Sylvain continued his snake like, seductive dance. He splayed an arm out beckoning Claude to him, and turned suddenly forcing the cloth to shoot out like one might wave a cape. He brought both arms above his head, and began to dance something new, something uniquely Almyran that he had learned while watching performers on the street. 

Sylvain took his left arm, and pushed the clothing covering the right side of his body off of his shoulder. It slid down hanging off of his belt, and he began to belly dance. Claude could feel his penis slowly rise at the sight of the dance in front of him. Sylvain, with all the sexual energy he could muster , was moving his hips, side to side, up and down. He rolled his body to a silent tune slowly turning and working all of his perfect stomach muscles. The fabric turned with him, with every sway, with every movement. He was a snake charmer and snake all at once, and Claude was definitely charmed. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight of this red snake in front of him, dancing to please his king.

Claude stood up and Sylvain stopped dancing. “Is something the matter  _ Your Highness?”  _ Sylvain smirked at his king, his lover. He tilted his head to the side playing at innocence, but with nothing but the most dirty of intentions. “I only wish to please you.” A bead of sweat rolled down his exposed pecs and over his abs, Claude could almost envy that bead of sweat if Sylvain weren't already _his._

“You’ve danced well, it was the most perfect performance I have ever witnessed.” Claude clapped his hands and slowly walked towards Sylvain, who took a bow. “Watching you dance, seeing you work so hard for me… I believe you deserve your reward now, and I am completely famished, so I’m going to have my dessert now.” 

Claude stopped in front of Sylvain, a light amount of sweat rolling down his perfectly toned abs. Claude then kneeled in front of the dancer and unfastened the cloth belt which kept his clothes in place. It came loose, and the robe fell to the ground. Sylvain’s flushed and healthy skin was nearly totally revealed to the cool air, and he shivered. His body was on full alert, his nipples were hard, and he was half erect. Claude pulled down Sylvain’s undergarments, revealing the last of Sylvain’s body to the open air. Claude eyed his prize hungrily, Sylvain looked positively tantalizing. Sylvain opened his mouth to say something about making sure the king didn’t want to see him dance like this, but was cut short when Claude ran one finger up the length of his penis. Claude wrapped his fingers around the shaft, and pumped up and down, just once. He took his other hand and slowly ran his fingers up Sylvain’s exposed inner thigh, right where he was sensitive. Sylvain held his breath, not wanting to give Claude the pleasure of his moans, _yet_. Claude licked up Sylvain’s right thigh, and then picked a spot, and bit. Sylvain attempted to control his breath but found it exceedingly difficult. Claude ran his fingers down the underside of his penis, just a graze, ever so light, and began to suck on the inner thigh where he bit. He sucked there for a moment, and then licked the red spot he left. He fully clasped Sylvain now, and began to slowly stroke up and down his shaft. Claude ran his tongue up Sylvain’s other thigh, and picked a new spot to suck. Sylvain felt like he was going crazy; it wasn’t enough, it was slow, it was meticulous, it was scheming, it was everything he loved about Claude. Claude took everything slow, it was excruciating, and so perfect. 

After he was satisfied with the amount of red marks he had left peppered around Sylvain’s thighs, finally, Claude spoke up. “It looks like the cream is finally ready.” He swirled one finger around the slit of Sylvain’s dick and brought it to his lips, licking the precum and staring directly into Sylvain’s lust filled eyes. Claude smiled and brought his face to Sylvain’s crotch. Slowly he stuck his tongue out and brought it to the slit. He licked there, teasing the opening of his penis and lapping up the  _ cream  _ which had escaped. “You are… so delicious.” Claude couldn’t wait anymore, he needed his dessert.

Claude then moved from the slit, and lifted Sylvain’s dick with a hand. The underside exposed, Claude licked there next, all the way up the length of Sylvain. Sylvain shivered, and brought his hands to cover his face. This teasing was painful, and yet so perfect. Claude liked to watch him come apart before actually digging in. It was a battle of wills, and Claude  _ always  _ won. He licked up and down the underside again, it was sensitive, and Sylvain needed Claude to just take him already.

“Claude, please, your dessert is ready, please. Please dig in. Please.” Sylvain begged, he always begged, Claude always won.

Claude looked up to Sylvain and smiled, “It looks like it is.”

With that, Claude opened his mouth and took Sylvain’s dick in. He took it in as far as he could, into the back of his throat and then pulled away. He licked at the slit, pushing his tongue in again, and licked at the underside before taking him back in. With one hand he began to pump further up while he continued to lick and suck. Sylvain tilted his head back, enjoying the sensation of Claude sucking him off. Every time Claude poked his tongue into the slit, Sylvain would lose his breath, and with every pump of his hand and thrust into Claude’s mouth, Sylvain would crumble. 

“I hope the baker is ready, I want two servings tonight.” Claude said around a mouth full of dick. Goddess, Claude was going faster now, thrusting Sylvain’s dick down his throat. It was such a turn on watching Claude do this wearing his crown and royal attire. Sylvain knew he would obey just about any order Claude gave him right now. Claude could have as many servings as he wanted, Sylvain could only say yes to his king.

Claude took Sylvain out of his mouth, and slowly stood up. He took Sylvain’s hand and walked to the bed where he shoved Sylvain down. He grabbed the bottle of oil he had left out and handed it to Sylvain. Sylvain nodded and Claude smirked, they really knew each other well. Claude pointed his ass towards Sylvain’s face and went back to work on Sylvain’s dick. He brought it back into his mouth and pumped it with his hand. He was being more forceful this time, more controlled movements meant to take Sylvain closer to the edge. 

Sylvain pulled Claude’s shendyt down and off of his body revealing his bare hole and dripping penis to the world. “Oho, I see the king knew exactly what he wanted tonight.” He squirted some oil onto his fingers and pushed his middle finger into Claude. Claude groaned a bit and continued to suck Sylvain. He was going faster now, bobbing his head up and down quickly. Sylvain was not feeling patient tonight and knew Claude could handle him, so he began to pull out his finger and thrust it back in a few times before adding another. Claude made such sweet sounds as Sylvain began to stretch him, his two fingers pushing on the walls of Claude’s insides. He thrust them in again, shallowly, then again, with more force. Claude licked into Sylvain’s slit again, and began to pump him hard with his hand. 

Claude was really good at this, Sylvain knew he wasn’t going to last much longer if Claude kept up like this. But, Claude did say he wanted two helpings tonight. Claude thrust his hind quarters back into Sylvain’s face, reminding Sylvain to keep working, and pumped him even more vigorously. Sylvain, feeling some retribution was in order, curled into Claude and rubbed in just the spot that would make Claude unravel. A tear escaped his eyelid as Claude felt the pleasure in his ass surge through his body and saliva drip from the face fuck he was currently giving Sylvain. Claude moaned around Sylvain’s dick and thrust Sylvain harder and farther into his mouth. Sylvain felt his release coming and began to thrust up to meet Claude’s mouth. 

After a few thrusts more, Sylvain let out a groan and spilled his cream into Claude’s mouth. Claude swallowed around Sylvain, ingesting the sweetness that he so craved. He thrust down a few more times, making sure not to let any of his dessert escape before slowly removing his mouth from Sylvain. Sylvain had stopped fingering at this point, two digits still inside Claude, focused entirely on the pleasure in his dick. Claude raised his head to look back at Sylvain, a line of drool and cum connecting his lips to Sylvain’s cock. Lazily, with his thumb, he mopped up a bit of Sylvain’s cream that had escaped down the side of his mouth. Eyeing Sylvain, he seductively licked the last of his creamy dessert and swallowed with a content sigh.

“My compliments to the baker.”

Sylvain couldn’t keep up the rouse anymore, instead he decided now was a good time to pull out his fingers, and add a third. Claude’s eyes went wide as Sylvain’s fingers stretched him some more. Sylvain was going faster than usual in his preparation of Claude tonight but he couldn’t wait, and by the looks of it, neither could Claude, who was already grinding into Sylvain’s fingers. 

No longer sucking him off, Claude kneeled on all fours as Sylvain continued to work his ass into a prepared state. Claude arched his back as Sylvain jabbed at his prostate. Sylvain relentlessly assaulted and drove Claude crazy with lust and pleasure. His dick began to drip and his Usekh jingled as Claude started rocking into Sylvain’s fingers. 

“I think…” Claude was cut off by a moan and a shiver wracking his body as Sylvain ground into his perfect spot. “I think I’ll take my dessert there next. I did say,” He stopped again as he pushed back into Sylvain’s thrusting fingers. “I wanted two courses tonight.”

“You did, and I think that you are just about ready for it.” 

“Are you ready for it Sylvain?”

Sylvain was, he was fully erect and wanted nothing more than to feed his king once more. 

Sylvain pulled his fingers out of Claude and smiled at the light whine that Claude let escape his lips. “My leige… how would you like to take your second course of dessert tonight?”

Claude looked at Sylvain and thought for a moment, postulating. Finally, he responded, “Lay down on the bed for me, face up.” 

Sylvain obliged; he scooted up to the center of the bed and laid back, penis standing at attention. Claude crawled towards him, eyeing his prize hungrily. Claude positioned his body above Sylvain’s crotch, supporting himself with one hand, and grabbing Sylvain’s rod with the other, positioning it upward. Breath ragged from anticipation, Claude spoke, “I’m going to go ahead and dig in now.” Sylvain just smiled and nodded at Claude, who was already dripping onto him, and clearly very, very hungry. 

Sylvain watched what came next with great pleasure. Claude, breath ragged, penis excited, lowered himself onto Sylvain. Claude sat there a moment, Sylvain balls deep inside him, allowing himself to stretch and accommodate his highly anticipated dessert. Claude pressed his hands to Sylvain’s chest for balance, and support, and slowly raised himself off of Sylvain, before thrusting down. Sylvain focused on the friction that pleasured his member, and on the face Claude made as he thrust. Claude’s carefully crafted persona had been shattered with just that thrust. A single tear escaped his eye, his face was turned up to the sky and he wore an expression of pure jubilation. He sat there a moment again, bringing a hand to his chest and rubbing up as he savored the fullness, and the feeling of Sylvain inside himself. He let out a contented sigh, and turned down towards to Sylvain. “You are… so delicious.”

Sylvain wanted to come back at Claude with a clever remark, but found no time to do so as Claude chose to well and truly dig into his dessert next. Claude, with his hands on Sylvain’s chest, began to shallowly raise his body and thrust down. Sylvain watched as Claude took his sweet time pleasuring his kingly ass with Sylvain’s dick. Claude’s golden Usekh bounced and jangled with each shallow thrust that Claude made. Hues of yellow, blue, and green glinting around the room in the candlelight. With each thrust Claude lost control of his voice, sighing and letting the most delicious whines escape. His crown threatened to fall off his head every time Claude arched his back and threw his head back in pleasure. 

Time passed in this way for what seemed like ages. Claude singing the tunes of love while he feasted upon Sylvain deep inside, and Sylvain savoring every second of Claude’s actions. The thrusting became less shallow, and Claude started to raise himself higher before thrusting down, Sylvain knew that Claude was hitting his perfect spot, because every time he thrust, Claude would dig his fingernails further into Sylvain’s flesh. He was going to have 10 pronounced claw marks in the morning, and he was loving it. Sylvain decided it was time to thrust up into him and see how he could please his king more. 

Claude yelped as he thrust down into Sylvain’s upward one, going much deeper than he had been anticipating. “Is this to your preference my king?” Claude laughed lightly and continued his movements, grinding down into each upwards thrust. 

Abruptly, Claude stopped. He looked down to Sylvain, who was quite confused and with heavy breaths simply stated “Keep feeding me,” Confused, Sylvain continued to thrust up into Claude who was staying suspended above him as Claude reached down to Sylvain’s sides. He rested his hands there and then began to pull Sylvain into an upright position. Once sitting, Claude wrapped his legs around Claude's waist.

_ Oho, I see,  _ Sylvain thought to himself.

Now that Sylvain was sitting up, Claude leaned in and took a bite out of a different area of Sylvain’s body as Sylvain took over thrusting. Claude craned his head to the side and leaned in to suck on Sylvain’s left nipple. Sylvain moaned as Claude, eyes glazed over with lust, began to bite, playfully at first, teasing it. Then with more force as he grabbed Sylvain’s other nipple and pulled hard at it. Sylvain swore under his breath and Claude grinned before licking again. 

Sylvain retaliated by thrusting harder into Claude, who threw his head back and moaned loudly before letting out a hazy laugh. 

“Do it harder red. I’m still hungry.”

Claude leaned back into Sylvain and bit his collarbone, hard, leaving marks. 

“Shit, oh my goddess. Oh goddess.”

Sylvain loved to be bit, especially there, he was weakest there. Claude licked the wound and bit down again, gentler this time, but strong enough to leave a bruise. He sucked there a moment, expanding the mark and laughed. “You grew bigger again, you really love to be tasted don’t you?” Claude let out a huff of a laugh and licked Sylvain’s neck.

Sylvain smiled at Claude, pulled out and thrust back in with such force that Claude’s eyes began to water. Sylvain did this a few more times and watched Claude squirm and wrap his arms around him, digging his nails into his back as Sylvain repeatedly pounded the spot that made Claude see stars. Claude's jubilant dick smacked against Sylvain's abs with each thrust leaving precum in its wake. Claude's voice couldn’t be contained any longer, he was too far gone, Panting, sighs, and gentle moans escaped his lips as he was so perfectly fucked.

Claude nestled up into Sylvain, and licked his neck. There, Claude bit next. “Hah, haha, hahaha, holy goddess, bite harder.” Claude did, and began to suck at the spot making Sylvain swear and harden further inside him. Claude peppered bites and kisses around Sylvain’s neck, as Sylvain thrust up into his lover, driving them ever closer to the edge. 

“Sylvain. I need your cream now, I need it, please give it to me.” Claude pulled away from Sylvain’s neck, now covered in red and teeth marks. Sylvain pulled out, and re-positioned Claude on the bed, ass in the air, so that he could better thrust into him. 

He leaned in close to Claude and kissed him, before thrusting. Claude bit Sylvain’s lip, a knee jerk reaction that only aroused Sylvain more. Sylvain held Claude’s hips, pulling him into every thrust, watching as Claude squirmed and scrunched his face up. Claude couldn’t remain still when he was feeling it, his body jolted and his voice came out in gasps and moans of “I love you, shit, goddess,” and a plethora of other phrases barely comprehensible. The king squirmed under Sylvain, his circlet fell from his head as Claude ran his hand through his hair. Sylvain couldn’t take it, he was about to be done, so he picked up the pace. Claude loved to be forced into orgasm only from behind, so Sylvain focused on smashing the spot that would tip Claude over the edge. 

“Sylvain! You, you’re going to end me.” Claude licked his lips and whispered into Sylvain’s ear. “Fill me with my dessert already. I can’t wait any longer.” Sylvain pulled out further and thrust harder, bringing them both to the edge. He leaned down and kissed Claude again, thrusting his tongue down Claude’s throat. With another hard thrust into him, Claude let out a final yell of “Sylvain!” and spewed his own sweet cream all over his chest. The jets of white didn’t cease for a few seconds, he had been terribly pent up these last few days. His Usekh was coated in the sweet mess, he had spewed  _ everywhere.  _ Claude clutched the sheets around him and his chest heaved as he rode out his orgasm meeting every one of Sylvain’s thrusts. A few thrusts later, Sylvain pushed past the edge, and finally, Claude had his second serving. With a final thrust, Sylvain’s sweetness filled Claude and Sylvain pounded the last of their pleasure. 

He lay there a moment, inside Claude still, resting atop his chest covered in cum, and reveled in the pleasure. Claude, who was slowly coming down from the high, caressed his hair, crimson as the sunset. Sylvain pulled out of Claude’s perfect, kingly ass before leaning down and licking Claude’s bare stomach, covered in cum and sweat. He lapped up all the sweetness into his mouth, before moving higher to lick up where the strongest jets had ended up. And Claude was  _ sweet.  _ Sylvain didn’t know how he tasted, he surely wasn’t curious enough to find out, but he could drink every drop of Claude’s ejaculate and never go thirsty. Claude smiled and watched his lover lick his chest clean. The Usekh would have to be wiped down later, Sylvain skipped that and licked the last bit of cream that had found its way up to Claude’s neck. Finally satisfied, Sylvain licked his lips, swallowed, and moved in close to Claude’s face. "I hope you didn't mind, I stole some dessert for myself~" Claude just smiled as Sylvain leaned in to kiss his lover, his king, his confidant, and Claude met his lips, sucking on his tongue. Sylvain enjoyed the sensation of Claude sucking passionately on his tongue, and nibbling at his lips. They kissed for a few moments, savoring the moment, and the closeness, and their love.

“I think that another bath is in order.” Sylvain finally said. 

Claude laughed. “Well, as much as I like the feeling of your wonderfully sweet cream inside me, it wouldn’t do good to leave it there. One problem though. I definitely can’t walk right now.” Claude smirked at Sylvain and winked. Every time Claude winked, Sylvain felt an arrow pierce his heart as he fell in love again.

Sylvain laughed before leaning down. “Then allow me to be your legs, your highness.” Sylvain reached for the Royal Usekh that Claude was wearing and removed it, draping it atop a nearby chair as well as his armband before gently picking Claude up and nestling him into his neck. Claude breathed in Sylvain, his Sylvain, the Sylvain now covered in teeth marks, love patches, and scratches upon his back. As Sylvain carried him into the other room and ran new, hot bath water, Claude thought for a moment.

_ Perhaps… Perhaps it is time to tie the knot.  _ Claude smiled, as he watched Sylvain bring a wet cloth over and begin to clean out his seed from his insides.  _ He is… definitely the one.  _ Claude had never been one to believe in fate, but… maybe he could be swayed to reconsider that stance.  _ Just maybe. _ Claude ran his fingers through Sylvain’s hair mindlessly as Sylvain spread him open and cleaned out his cream. 

After appropriately cleaning the royal passageway, the two bathed together in jasmine petals and talked until their fingers had shriveled and their water turned cold. Servants replaced their soiled sheets and the two retired to bed. They spoke well into the deep night, about plans for the kingdom, new deals and ideas to implement, when their next day off would be, and they were content. Eventually, limbs entwined and foreheads touching, the two drifted off to sleep. They didn’t yet know it, but this would be the last peaceful sleep they would be permitted to have for quite some time.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you (and Claude and Sylvain) enjoyed because all the shit hits the fan next chapter. The next many chapters will be lacking NSFW content, although, I will try to sneak some in. The heavy plot points are dropping now. 
> 
> I'll be doing side stories which will definitely be featuring NSFW scenes if you follow this link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567753 Currently I only have a very domestic fluffy scene with Ashe and Felix; a very sexy glasses scene is planned next. Thanks for reading! Next update will be the 19th.


	6. Complaints Against The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix and Ashe; Claude and Sylvain; Petra and Caspar: each are struck with revelations that threaten to turn their worlds' upside down once more. Something has gone terribly wrong in Fodlan and it seems that war is inevitable again as accusations against Dimitri and Marianne are raised with grave seriousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of revelations are going to be dropped in this chapter. Our boys and girls are in for some surprises and lots of change. There will be some more serious violence in this and the following chapters so I'll update the archive warning.

Felix’s eyes fluttered open. Lazily, slowly, he peeked around the room. It was day, he had no idea the time, and the storm still raged outside making it even harder to guess the hour. 

Ashe was in bed with him. Well. it was more like Ashe and Felix were in bed together: legs entwined, Felix’s head resting against Ashe’s chest, Ashe’s hand in Felix’s hair, and the other one holding him close. Felix’s right arm was under Ashe, and it was definitely numb. His other arm rested lazily over Ashe’s body. 

Felix did a body check. He hurt. A lot. He felt like he had gone nine rounds with the boar at the training grounds, and lost. 

_ And he absolutely loved it.  _

Inside, he felt a dull ache, the dull ache of loving thrusts made into him all night long. He had been so well fucked. He couldn't remember how many times he and Ashe had gone last night. He stopped counting after three. He felt sticky inside; he felt sticky outside too. He was covered in dried oil, saliva, and other bodily fluids, as was Ashe. He appraised the parts of his body he could see, kiss marks, peppered his chest, and his back. Ashe knew he was sensitive on his back. Around the… fifth time? Ashe thrust into him from behind, licking and biting and sucking at his back. That had been wonderful. He felt a bruise on his inner thigh, and saw a large bite mark there. He smiled. Ashe might be innocent… but he definitely wasn’t when it came to this. Pain buzzed around his body, such an exquisite pain that said he had been with the most perfect man in the world.

Felix hummed, and nestled back into Ashe’s warm chest. Felix decided that he didn’t want to face the day, no, he was going to just sleep with Ashe, like this, as long as he could. He dozed off, not really asleep, but definitely not thinking.

He heard a knock at the door. Felix ignored it.

The door opened. 

Felix didn’t move, and spoke muffled against Ashe, “Cassius, what is it? I really don’t feel like moving right now.”

“Felix.”

Felix peeked out from his warm hiding spot. At the door stood Ingrid. She was looking worse for wear, but the color had returned to her skin, and she seemed to be healthy. She was wearing the robe his father often wore when he was yet living and was smiling.

Felix untangled himself from Ashe, climbed out of bed and ran up to Ingrid. 

Ingrid met Felix, and pulled him into a hug. 

Felix held her tightly, happy she was alive, “I’m so glad you’re ok Ingrid. If you had died, I would have fucking killed you.”

Ingrid let out a pained laugh, clearly her wounds were not completely healed yet. 

“You don’t have to kill me for dying just yet anyway.” Her face went dark, “It was close though. I’m… very glad that I had been training Ashe to ride Pegasus, otherwise, we probably would have died last night. He really is a knight in shining armor.”

They pulled apart from one another, Ingrid holding Felix’s hands. Felix realized the state of dress… or lack thereof that he was in. Ingrid didn’t seem to care, nor did she comment on… how clearly loved he had been last night. 

Felix huffed a laugh, she was right about Ashe, “From what I understand, you are too. He said you saved him when his horse was killed.”

“Yeah… poor Lonato… I’m glad I managed to grab him before that swordsman could do any more harm to him.”

Ingrid let go of Felix’s hands and looked to the bed, where the angel masquerading as a knight still slept. 

“Sooooooooo.” Ingrid eyed him, and looked Felix up and down. “Long night huh? I didn’t hear anything, don’t worry, I was asleep until just about five minutes ago. Oh my, the maids were certainly gossiping though, they said they heard… let's use the word:  _ sounds , _ radiating from your room well into the morning.” 

Felix broke into a furious shade of red, but didn’t say anything. He decided stoic silence was the best option here.

“Goodness Felix, what would Sylvain say if he could see you now? I daresay you are just as insatiable as he.”

The red in his face brightened a few hues. “ How could I not…”

“OOO, not what Felix?” She asked with a smirk.

Felix burst, “How could I NOT enjoy him? I’ve practically been  _ dying here without him…” _

Ingrid’s face broke into a smirk. He uh, had definitely meant to think that, not say it aloud. He cursed himself under his breath.

From behind him, Felix heard an angelic voice, “You weren't the only one enjoying that Felix, I needed you too.”

Ingrid snickered, and burst into a full laugh. Felix wanted to hide in a cave, as far north as he could get, and never leave. He turned to look at Ashe, and went wide-eyed.

Ashe had turned to them, was in full recline, resting his head against one hand. He looked like one of those nude models in a painting hanging in some asshole nobleman’s house. Only Ashe was not a painting, way sexier, and smirking at Felix despite the blush on his cheeks, which Felix knew meant he was embarrassed, but, clearly, not as much as Felix was currently. 

Felix attempted to look away, but Ashe was too hypnotic. 

“I take it back Ashe, you are not an angel. You, are in fact, a devil, masquerading around with the face of an angel.”

Ashe hummed “Hmmmmmm when did you call me an angel Felix?”

Felix looked like he might spontaneously combust.

“Awwwwwwwwww, Ashe, he thinks you’re an angel!” Ingrid laughed and teased.

“He said a whole lot more than that last night.” Ashe chuckled, Felix attempted to turn around and… maybe flee to Sreng. Yes, that seemed like a good idea.

Ashe grabbed his arm, and pulled him back into bed. “I love you Felix, forgive me for teasing you.” Ashe nuzzled Felix’s neck.

Felix let out a curt, “Fine.” Then mumbled, “I love you too.”

Ashe kissed him and Felix found himself dissolve into Ashe's touch. 

Ingrid sat down on the bed. “You two are so adorable. Would it kill you to throw on some clothes though? You both have yourselves hanging out, and look, its fine. I’m a soldier, we’ve all seen each other at this point, but come on.” 

The two of them pulled away from each other and blushed. 

Felix simply responded with "It’s my house… AND my room!”

Ashe and Ingrid laughed.

The casual banter and teasing was nice. Felix had Ashe back, and one of his old friends, Ingrid, they were alive.  _ But _ . Something had happened to them. Someone had almost killed them. 

Felix’s expression became serious. “Ashe, we had a perfect night together, and I didn’t worry about what happened, because you were here, and alive, and I needed you. Now… now I need to know what happened.”

Ashe and Ingrid shared a look. 

“This is… going to be a long story.” Ingrid replied.

Ashe chimed in, “I’m not changing the subject, but uh… we should all have a bath.” 

Felix felt the stickiness, and knew he had to agree with Ashe.

“I need a bath too, there’s still blood in my hair.” Ingrid made a perturbed face.

“Well, we might as well all bathe together. Ingrid has already seen us in this state, and we all bathed in the river on march before. We can just talk in there.” Felix responded.

The two of them nodded. Ingrid left the room first. Felix wrapped himself in the slightly used towel from last night, and handed his robe to Ashe. Cassius stood outside the door. Felix beckoned Ashe to go ahead while he spoke briefly to Cassius.

Ashe walked off after Ingrid.

“Good morning my lord.” Cassius said, apparently unfazed by the sex ravaged look of the two boys.

Of course he was unfazed, Cassius had been the first person to know that Felix was attracted to men after finding him kissing the stable boy at age thirteen. Felix thanked the Goddess he rarely prayed to for the existence of Cassius once again. He truly was an astounding man.

“Could you find some clothes for Ingrid? I’m sure we have women’s wear locked away somewhere in this obscenely large house. Ashe can wear something of mine, we’re the same size.”

“Of course my lord.” 

Felix turned to walk away, Cassius called out to him.

“You look quite well this morning my lord. I have not seen such a spring in your step in so many months. I do worry about the circumstances of this visit though.”

That was putting it lightly. “I’m going to find out now, we’re going to speak in the bath.”

“Understood my lord.”

Felix turned to face his old butler, his old  _ friend.  _ “Cassius.” He walked forward and uncharacteristically embraced him. “Thank you. Thank you for saving her Cassius, I don’t know what I would have done. I couldn’t help them alone. Thank you.”

Cassius beamed, “I would do anything for you My Lord.”

“Felix is fine, from now on. This ‘my lord’ business doesn’t sit well with me.” Felix gently pulled away from the hug, “Besides, I won’t be a lord for long.” 

“Felix it is then My Lo… Felix.” 

Felix smiled, a sight Cassius rarely was able to see, and walked off to the bathhouse.

Cassius stood there for a moment, remembering the boy: the boy who lost his brother, the boy who was alone, the boy who went to war and lost his father. He had returned a different person, and with someone whom he loved in tow. Felix was not that boy any longer, he had realized the person he wanted to be. He watched Felix… hobble down the hall.  _ Oh to be young,  _ Cassius thought to himself. The two boys had clearly been busy last night, but both seemed so much better this morning. He knew how much Felix loved Ashe, he hoped they could be together and be happy. Cassius was worried about this newest problem that had arrived at their doorstep and found himself praying it would be handled well, and peacefully.

Cassius walked to the room of Felix’s mother, the mother Felix never knew; he pulled out one of the dresses, a simple, Kingdom Blue, placed it in the changing room of the bathhouse, and set to work for the day. 

\-----

The trio scrubbed themselves clean in the bath side by side by side. Blood, sweat, and bodily fluids went down the drain in the floor and finally Ashe felt like himself again. His body felt good; he was walking with a slight limp due to the arrow that had pierced his leg but that would go away with time. Ok, he was probably also walking with a limp due to the fun he and Felix had last night as well. Sadly, he couldn’t dwell on that long. He was alive and had important information to relay. 

The three transferred to the bath after scrubbing clean; Felix took no time to get to the point. “What happened out there? Why were you two running and who from?”

Ashe scratched the back of his head and began to fiddle with his hair, which Felix now noticed had grown a bit longer than Ashe usually kept it. Twirling his hair was his nervous tick. Ashe knew Felix was going to be twenty-seven kinds of livid when he finally spoke up. He looked to Ingrid who just nodded. He had to do this. He began to recount what he had witnessed.

“For the past few months… Dimitri and Marianne have been… different. Dimitri has been... distant and reserved. Marianne has done a complete 360. She doesn’t talk to anyone, she barely eats despite being six months pregnant and has been talking to herself constantly. I don’t have a clue what happened to them. Ever since the celebration of Unification Day during the Verdant Rain Moon, the two of them have been completely different. Even Dedue has been worried! Dimitri won’t give him the time of day and seems to ignore him. His Duscur initiative has stalled and that was when Ingrid noticed things were wrong.” 

Ashe took a breath before continuing. “Three days ago… Dimitri gave me an order. As his knight, of course I did as instructed. It seemed simple enough. I was to accompany Marianne to a meeting with her adoptive father. The Margrave Edmund is… was… a horrible person. He adopted Marianne in hopes of marrying her off to gain standing in the Leicester alliance; of course, the alliance dissolved and joined the kingdom during the war.”

Felix knew of the Margrave but had only had the  _ great  _ displeasure of meeting him once at the Celebratory Ball held in Fhirdiad one month after the end of the war. He was actually a rather well kept man, cleanly shaven, handsome, only in his late forties or early fifties. He was obscenely tall, and wore far too much cologne. As a wealthy merchant lord he grew the prestige of his family and became one of the most important lords in the former Leicester alliance. Felix saw through the man’s easy smile when he met him. He had a piercing gaze and was not the type of man who seemed used to losing or failing to achieve his desires. Lords love gossip, and at the party Felix had heard rumors he was impotent, which led him to adopt Marianne. Their conversation had been short thankfully, Felix could fumigate his entire estate with the stench of cologne radiating off that most unpleasant man. It had been enough of a meeting for Felix to understand the gloomy and depressed demeanor that Marianne carried all through their academy days. 

Ashe continued on. “When we went to one of the private rooms in Castle Fhirdiad, it became apparent he was angry with Marriane. The Margrave was irritated with the Viceroyalty system that was slowly being implemented across the Kingdom. He felt it was… I’ll use the word ‘unwise’ and stated he had worked too hard to be delegated to the sidelines now. As Marianne’s father, he demanded that she ensure he be given permanent control of the Edmund territory as well as the former Reigen territories. As if his demand wasn’t insane enough, he also demanded that one of her children with the King must inherit the Edmund name. He wanted a male son, her second, or third, or fourth, it didn’t matter to him really. One of her children would become adopted by him and have the Edmund name; the Edmund and Reigen territories would remain in his family line through that child for as long as the Kingdom stood.” 

Felix squinted his eyes, and made a disgusted face. “He demanded the right to adopt one of her children? He’s demented, she’s the Queen now. What right did he have to demand that of her?”

“He felt that since he had given her status and the ability to marry into nobility after her biological father died, he had earned this from her. Anyway… those were his demands. I overheard their entire conversation.”

“So… what does that have to do with anything? Surely she just refused him and sent him away?”

Ashe shifted uncomfortably in the bath, and began to clasp and unclasp his hands. “You have to continue Ashe.” Ingrid chimed in. 

“I know… I know. I just… I still don’t want to believe what happened ok?” And what was more, Ashe knew Felix was going to erupt. It wasn’t going to be a small tantrum.

“Next… Marianne started to laugh, right in his face. It was… creepy, and weird. She didn’t get mad, she didn’t yell at him, she didn’t calmly refuse him like I thought she would. She started to laugh… it was this… awful, durranged, demented laugh. I was shocked, I couldn’t believe something like that was escaping  _ Marianne’s  _ mouth. Her face contorted into this… snide look, a crooked smile formed as she began to taunt him.  _ Marianne started taunting him. Marianne.”  _ He added for emphasis. “She started calling him a failure; told him he was weak and… couldn’t… couldn’t get it up to have a son of his own so he had to rely on her. She told him he would die alone, with mountains of gold and no one to give it to except her. He was a sad, weak, and pathetic little man who no one would ever love and who was only respected because he was rich. She… she said she would sooner feed her future children to the wolves than ever let him have them.”

Feilx cocked an eyebrow. “ _ Marianne  _ said all that?  _ Our Marianne?  _ Marianne who used to talk to the horses and barely spoke a word? Marianne who hated violence and remained in the back lines to heal?  _ Our Marianne  _ made fun of his impotence?” Sure, many of the insults she threw at him, he absolutely deserved but it was crazy to imagine Marianne being the one to say those things. She had gained some oratory prowess in recent years but was not someone who would willingly pick a war of words. Nor was Marriane the type to callously joke she would feed any child, much less her own, to the wolves. Felix would have laughed at the idea if it weren’t for the fact that it was  _ Ashe  _ telling him this and Ashe wouldn’t lie about something that had led to that escape.

Ashe just nodded his head and continued. “The Margrave was livid. He jumped out of his chair and started screaming at her. I instinctively put my hand on my sword, ready to defend her. He got in her face, leaned in and screamed that she was nothing. He screamed she was his dog and would obey like one. He screamed that… he screamed that he should have just married her off to the nearest kennel if this was how he was going to be repaid for taking her in. He fed her, clothed her and gave her a roof and she owed him everything, and he would have his payment one way or another. I started to yell at him then. I told him she was queen and how dare he talk to her like this. I would get King Dimitri involved and he would never, ever get what he wanted. The Margrave backed out of her face then, and grabbed his coat. He turned to storm out the doorway…” Ashe stopped talking. His face was downcast and he was squeezing his hands so hard they turned white.

Ashe took a breath, and finished his sentence. “He turned to leave out of the doorway... and Marianne with glowing blue eyes… crest flaring red on her hand… cast Thoron on him. The lightning tore through his chest and stomach and… coated the back wall in his blood.”

Felix’s eyes went wide and his jaw went slack. 

“The Margrave fell to the ground clutching the large, singed hole in his chest. His eyes filled with disbelief and horror. He choked on his last breath and... died.” 

Felix sunk a bit in the tub; he was utterly dumbfounded. 

“She… started to laugh. I just… stood there. I was so… confused, and horrified. Even if a disgusting man like that deserved it… It was the callous way that she ended him, with a smile and a cruel laugh that Marianne… I didn’t think she was capable of it. The Marianne I knew had become strong; she would have rebuked him and told him to leave. She would have used her voice to defend herself and tell him he would never have what he wanted because she had earned her place in the world. I don’t know what happened. I… I don’t know who that Marianne was.”

Ingrid grabbed Ashe’s hand. “You have to continue Ashe. That isn’t the end. Tell him what you told me.” 

Ashe took another deep breath, his face was pale despite sitting in a hot bath. “The Margrave was dead. Marianne composed herself after a moment or so. She turned to me… I stood at attention not knowing what else to do. Then she screamed for the guards. They came rushing in and were shocked to find the Margrave laying on the floor with a massive hole in his chest and blood coating the walls. She… she… She pointed at me. And she told them I murdered him. She told them I murdered her father in cold blood. She started to cry these fake tears. She… acted like she cared about him. I haven't trained with magic. I couldn’t conjure a puff of wind to make a leaf dance, much less blast a hole through someone’s chest with lightning.”

Felix felt his head spin and his vision went blurry. “She did  _ what?”  _ Ingrid grabbed his shoulder and held him down, or was trying to comfort him, Felix couldn’t tell.

“I was shocked. They tackled me to the ground, stripped me of my weapon, and marched me to the dungeons. I was there for… a few hours. They chained me to the wall and someone came to get answers out of me. They started to beat me and demanded I tell them the truth. I told them Marianne murdered him, that I was innocent.” Ashe sighed and continued, “I told them I couldn’t even use magic. They… ignored me. They called me a liar.”

Felix’s head was spinning, he felt a pain behind his right eye, and knew he was getting a migraine. The vodka from last night was definitely not helping, and he was starting to overheat in the tub. Felix attempted to stand up but Ingrid kept him down. “You need to stay, and calmly listen to this Felix.” 

“I need to get out of the tub, or I’m going to pass out.” Ingrid released her grip on Felix, who paced up and down the length of the room before grabbing a nearby stool and sitting down facing Ashe.

Ashe squirmed now that Felix was making eye contact but continued his story. “After a few hours of beatings and interrogations… Dimitri walked into the dungeon. Naturally… I stood up, and told him there was a mistake, that I didn’t do it… I told him I was innocent. But Dimitri just glared at me, and then… he began to laugh too.” Ashe stopped again, he couldn’t look into Felix’s eyes. Felix’s gaze was hard as stone. Ashe knew he was imagining Dimitri, and probably about thirty ways to maim him, but he needed to keep going.

Ashe turned his face down and stared into the water. “Dimitri told me I was guilty… and that I would be beheaded in the morning for my crimes. He… told me no one would care if a little thief boy who cheated his way into becoming a knight was executed. He turned and walked out then with parting words of…’Oh, and don’t think for a second I won't destroy Castle Gaspard where your siblings are if you try to escape.’” Ashe gulped, and chanced a glance at Felix.

Felix had closed his eyes and was clutching his head in what seemed to be pain. His other hand was balled into a fist. “Felix! Are you ok?” Ashe launched up and grabbed Felix’s shoulder.

“Just… continue, I need to hear the rest.”

Ashe didn’t let go of Felix’s shoulder, and sat down on the edge of the large bath before continuing. “Later that night… Dedue came down to the dungeons. I thought he was saying goodbye or… perhaps going to ask if I had actually done it. Instead, he unlocked my cell and told me to get to the stables as fast and stealthily as I could. He said something was possessing Dimitri and Marianne, and he would try to figure out what had happened to them. I gave him a hug, told him thank you, and told him to be careful because something was very wrong. Thankfully… I’m light on my feet and got to the stables quickly, where Ingrid was waiting with Lonato, my horse. She was sitting on Glena and told me we were going to make a break for it. She couldn’t believe I had been charged with murder using magic, when I couldn’t even wield it. We started galloping out the back gate and into the city streets when the warning bells began to chime. Looking back, I saw what must have been twenty wyvern riders sortie after us. We made it out to the countryside but they were faster than us. They started raining down arrows on us, one struck my leg, and another… another hit Lonato in the eye. He fell to the ground and flung me forward.”

Ingrid chimed in now, “I turned around as fast as I could but… one of the wyvern riders had landed and slashed Ashe in the chest. I rode up and crushed him under Glena’s hooves but as I reached for Ashe…”

“They shot her. I climbed aboard and tried to keep her awake. We held the reigns together for hours. They couldn’t catch up to us, especially as it started to get colder as we flew further north.”

“He forced me to stay awake by telling me what happened, and then with other stories about his siblings, and Lord Lonato, and you. We flew through the night. The sun came up, and we kept flying. We didn’t stop, and we stopped looking to see if they were pursuing. As Darkness started to fall again… and snow started to swirl around us… I passed out. I woke up in one of your beds with Cassius asleep in a chair next to me holding my hand.”

“And of course… you know how I ended up crashing into your stables and dragging us inside.”

Felix reached out and grabbed Ashe and Ingrid, pulling them into a hug. 

“Felix?” They questioned almost perfectly in sync.

“We have to leave. We have to leave right now. They know you’ll be here and they’ll know where we’re going. We have to get to Castle Gaspard, grab Jaspar and Magnolia and call all of our armies to arms.”

Ashe broke free of Felix, “Acutally… Jaspar and Magnolia aren’t in Castle Gaspard.”

“What? Where are they?”

“Well… I couldn’t leave them alone there. I might be Lord Gaspard now… but I’m never at the castle and I didn’t want them to grow up alone, or with nannies. I could have left them here with you, of course, but knew you would be really busy. So, they’re at the Monastery, with Mercedes and Emile. Who said they would watch over them. Whenever there was official business at the monastery I would visit them, but Dimitri shouldn’t know they are there, they were always in Mercedes’s classes or with me in our house there.”

“You have a house at the monastery?” Ingrid chimed in.

“Yeah… uhhhhh… long story!” Ashe decided that telling Felix he bought them a house to live in together after everything had been sorted out wasn’t the best idea right now. “ Anyway, that’s the safest place for them, the Professor is Archbishop and our comrades are there to keep them safe.”

Felix stood up and turned to leave. “We better get going then.”

“Felix… are you… are you ok? Please don’t do anything crazy.” 

“I won’t, we need to go to the monastery and explain what happened to the professor, he’ll help us.” His face was turned away so Ashe and Ingrid didn’t see the raging flames forming in his eyes. 

Felix continued out the door, leaving Ashe and Ingrid worredly looking towards him. The two followed suit and dried off, all of them dressed and proceeded out of the bath house. 

“Cassius!” Felix called.

Cassius came running towards them “Yes my lord?” 

“I’m firing everyone in the house. Give them five years worth of pay and tell them they have to get out of the mansion immediately, they are in danger. Use all the horses in our stables to arrange carriage rides for them all, send them out by village. We are vacating the mansion, we have to be gone by nightfall.”

“I… understand, my Lord.” Cassius looked taken aback. Felix knew he had lived in this manor for the better part of around sixty years now. 

Felix turned and faced this man, who had practically raised him, “You’re coming with us to Garreg Mach. And stop calling me that. Especially since Dimitri is probably sending an army to crush me right now, I’m definitely not a noble anymore.”

Cassius balked at the words, “He… He what? What is going on?”

“I’ll explain on the road, get everything in order, pack what you can, leave everything else, and put as much of our fortune as you can into a carriage for us. We are going to need to pay our army when the war starts.” 

“Felix. What war?”

“The one that I’m going to start. Dimitri and Marianne have gone insane and have attempted to execute Ashe for a murder Marianne commited.” 

“FELIX! I told you not to do anything crazy!” Ingrid was shouting.

“What are our options Ingrid? He’s going to march an army to find us wherever we go. HE. WILL. KILL. US: you, me, Ashe, his siblings, my servants, anyone he possibly can, he will kill! The boar king has finally gone off the deep end! If he’s doing this to us, what do you think he is going to attempt to do to the rest of the realm? I am being perfectly rational. I won’t be caught with my pants down and my dick out. I’m going to fight until the blood drains from my body and I draw my last breath. He will not find me to be an easy enemy. Byleth will help us, there is no way he would allow this to stand.” Felix was shouting now. “I will drag every noble from every corner of Fodlan into this war _ IF I HAVE TO _ ! The mad royals will be put down like the animals they are.” Felix’s face wall full of rage, his crest was burning blue on his collarbone, his fists were clenched at his sides.

“And hypothetically  _ just WHO  _ will take over the _ giant kingdom _ that we _ fought a war _ for  _ FIVE YEARS _ and lost  _ SIX CLASSMATES _ to?!  _ You?  _ Don’t delude yourself Felix!” 

“Our survival comes first you blathering idiot! I won’t lose anyone else! You don’t actually think we should roll over and DIE do you?!” 

“I DON’T THINK ANOTHER WAR IS THE ANSWER FELIX!”

“NEITHER DO I! WHAT OTHER CHOICE _ IS THERE _ ?”

Ashe and Cassius stood by awkwardly as the two started shouting at each other. Maids and butlers started to crowd around now, curious, and frightened at the commotion. 

As the two continued their shouting match, Cassius stepped up and in between them; he proceeded to flick them both on their foreheads with a satisfying  _ thwack!  _

“What the fuck Cassius!” 

“That’s quite enough out of both of you. You’re scared, you aren’t thinking clearly and you want to survive. All of those are understandable emotions, but yelling at each other is a terrible place to put all your energy right now. Felix. Ingrid. We will go to Garreg mach, and we will raise our armies. They will take the long march to Garreg Mach via Ailell. We will tell the Archbishop they are coming and explain the situation to him, IF he decides to go to war with us, then they will be there, and if not, we will disperse them back home. He might be able to secure a diplomatic solution. Both of you, calm down.”

Felix and Ingrid looked away from each other petulantly, but both mumbled their agreement. “Felix, since I’ll be coming with you… I can assist with battle strategy if need be. I tutored master Rodrigue in the ways of war and I’ll be useful to you.” 

Felix looked to Cassius, “Yes, I know you will, you’re right.”

Ingrid let out a frustrated sigh, “Yeah, he is.” 

Ashe walked over to Felix and Ingrid and placed a hand on each of their cheeks, “We need to prepare.”

“Yes” Cassius chimed in, “We leave for the monastery at one o’clock this afternoon and not a moment later.”

Cassius went to work fulfilling Felix’s orders to pay each servant five years worth of money and arranging their rides home, carriages departed the Fraldarius manor in all directions early that afternoon. One such carriage holding the nobles on the run departed for Garreg Mach. In the skies, carrier owls took Lord Fraldarius’s call to arms to every village and town within the Gautier and Fraldarius territories; Lord Gaspard did the same. Their orders: March to Ailell, the valley of torment, and advance to Garreg Mach where they were to stand guard and await further instruction. Another few carrier owls departed as well; these carried messages to their former classmates, and allies both in and out of Fodlan. It looked like yet again, Fodlan would be at war. 

\-----

Sylvain woke up to the cruel rays of the sun banging on the hinges of his eyes. Curses. Claude’s bedroom opened towards the east, and the sun shone in through his windows in the morning. Claude liked to rise early to work out and train a bit before his day began. Sylvain wasn’t such a fan of that practice. Usually, he would hide his face under the covers, or attempt to clamp Claude down to stay with him. When he was in the mood, he would invite Claude to a  _ different _ kind of work out with him, but he had been sated last night. Claude had not yet stirred, so Sylvain took the opportunity to wrap his limbs around Claude, hoping he would just surrender to his hug when he awoke. 

He closed his eyes intending to catch a few more winks holding the man he loved.

Reality, however, is a cruel mistress and had other plans for him today. Perhaps he was being punished for his heart-breaking days. Not but a few moments later, thundering footsteps could be heard from the hall outside their door. “Ah crud.” He mumbled. Sure enough, within moments, loud banging rang out into the silent room, and before he or Claude could respond, the door swung wide open. Sylvain shot up out of bed facing the morning silence crasher, and there stood Nader, with an unreadable expression.

Claude groaned, and stirred from his slumber. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and letting out a loud yawn.

“Claude. Sylvain.”

Claude’s eyes shot open. He was wide awake now. Nader hardly ever called them by their names. He looked to Sylvain, who was cocking an eyebrow with a questioning glance at Nader. Sylvain broke the silence, “Good morning Nader… What’s up?”

Nader had a stern look on his face, the joviality usually so iconic of the large and happy man was nowhere to be seen this morning. His forehead was creased, and he wore a deep frown. Finally, he spoke up, “You are both needed in the throne room posthaste. Sylvain, put on your best, Claude… put on your vestments.”

Claude’s face went dark, there were very few reasons that Nader would request he put on his vestments and go to the throne room: Royal weddings, triumphs, official proclamations, war declarations, national emergencies. No one was getting married, he didn’t have anything to proclaim, and they hadn’t had a triumph since Claude pacified the southern raiders, which left few reasons Nader would request this, and none of them positive. 

Claude nodded, and Nader turned to leave. The two watched him go, and proceeded to dress. Sylvain put on his dancer’s outfit, not wanting to waste time heading back to his room, and Claude put on all his finest: the Usekh over his chest, his armband, his crown, and his gold silk shendyt with the leather belt and silver lappets. 

The two marched out the door and walked to the throne room.

Entering from the side door, the private door, Claude walked to his throne and sat down. It was a beautiful construct, solid sandstone inlaid with more topaz, emeralds, and sapphires. He couldn’t escape the gemstones no matter what he did so he grew to accept them.

The throne room was a beautiful, open air masterpiece. Behind the throne, was a large un-paned window revealing the vast desert; pillars supported the room down both sides and large doors coated in yes, more jewels, stood tall at the base of the room.

Sylvain walked down the stairs leading to the throne and took his place next to the other High Adjutants. Nader, Vizier to the King, walked up the stairs and stood next to Claude, who rested his arm on the armrest and his head upon his fist. Nader bellowed, “Enter.” And the doors to the throne room opened. A rider of the Barbarossa Corp entered the room with a Wyvern that had seen better days. The gallant creature had cuts that were slowly beginning to heal, and a few arrows lodged in between its scales and in its armor. 

Azar, who commanded all the Barbarossa corps cocked her head to the side, a worried expression on her face. 

Nader spoke up. “This morning, not but half an hour ago, this Wyvern returned to the capital alone, with no rider. Two weeks ago, Adjutant Sylvain sent out an official envoy of two diplomats guarded by three Barbarossa riders. They were due back three days ago. This morning… Only this Wyvern returned.”

Nader signaled to the Barbarossa rider who had led the beast into the throne room. “Please… Show us what you found attached to the wyvern this morning when he landed.”

The Rider stepped forward holding a bag and a scroll. 

“... Present what is in the bag.”

The rider opened the bag... and pulled out a decapitated head. The room filled with gasps, Sylvain’s stomach did a back-flip. The head looked… peaceful at least. It’s eyes were closed, the muscles relaxed. If it weren’t lacking… a body, Sylvain would have thought him asleep. The cut seemed to be clean, Sylvain hoped this man had left the world painlessly. Claude grimaced and spoke up. “Who was he?” 

The rider put the decapitated head back in the bag and spoke up. “He was…” 

Abruptly, Azar spoke up, “He was one of my lieutenants. Lieutenant Turan, one of my best riders.” Azar’s face fell, and she saluted the man who would not return home. Claude stood and everyone else in the room followed suit, saying a prayer for his soul.

Claude ran his fingers through his hair and sighed as he sat back down. “Do we know what happened?”

“Not yet.” Chimed in Nader. “Rider, hand the scroll to me and take the Wyvern to the wyvern master so it can be treated. Also… take the Lieutenant to the barracks, we will… be informing his family later today.” 

The rider obeyed and after handing Nader the scroll, led the Wyvern out of the throne room. The large doors shut with a heavy thud. It was silent in the room, and tense. Sylvain looked down at his shoes feeling partly responsible for his death. And where were the other four men he sent as part of that envoy team? Were they… in a similar state? Sylvain grimaced. 

Nader broke the silence, “Right. I’m going to read this scroll. Someone attached that bag with Lieutenant Turan’s head to the Wyvern and allowed it to fly back home. Perhaps this letter is from them as well.”

Nader opened the scroll, and read the contents aloud to the room.

“To Claude, King of the lands of Almyra in the east, hear these words and take heed. His Imperial Majesty Dimitri I, King of Faerghus, Grand Duke of Leicester, Liberator of Adrestia, and Emperor of Fodlan hereby demands the delivery of Wyverns numbering Five Hundred thousands to the Imperial capital of Fhirdiad. Along with the delivery, his Imperial Majesty demands that Almyra enter the entirety of it’s Barbarossa corp into the service of The Fodlan Empire. Failure to comply with these demands will lead to the immediate beginning of hostilities between The Empire of Fodlan and the Kingdom of Almyra. The Kingdom of Almyra has until the final day of the Red Wolf Moon to accept or decline these terms, knowing that to decline, is to bring the end of Almyra. 

-Myson Agara -Minister of War”

The room erupted all at once; yelling, outrage, the High Adjutants talking frantically and quickly. Nader’s face was dark, brooding, full of an intent that might have been murderous if Sylvain was reading it correctly. Claude was stoic, and silent, his face was stone; he was sitting straight on his throne and looked very regal despite the demand directed at him. Yelling and chaos ruled. Adjutants started yelling that this and the murder of Liuetenant Turan meant war, and that Fodlan would pay. Others said that perhaps if they did nothing, it would blow over, the demands were impossible! Surely King Dimitri… Emperor Dimitri knew this? Sylvain was silent, looking at Claude with a worried expression. 

Claude spoke up and the room went silent. “Adjutant Sylvain. What do you make of this proclamation?” Ah. He was indeed the Adjutant of Fodlan affairs, and he had known Dimitri… not that he was confident he could still say that having heard that demand.

He stepped up two steps, took a moment to process his thoughts, and began to speak. “Firstly. This demand is impossible, and King Dimitri would know this. Almyra doesn’t have five hundred thousand wyverns domesticated, at max it has maybe eighty thousand. All of these eighty thousand are dispersed throughout the Kingdom helping to guard the borders and keep order. The twenty thousand we were going to sell to Fodlan were all young and untrained. The Barbarossa corp could never be given up. It is the pride and prestige of Almyra, they knew this was an impossible demand as well. Which tells us something important. Fodlan wanted a reason to go to war, and is using this as its Casus Belli.” 

Sylvain took a breath, and continued. “Secondly. Something has changed in Fodlan politics. When the war in Fodlan ended and Faerghus united the continent, Archbishop Byleth proclaimed Dimitri King of Faerghus, and crowned him.” Sylvain held out his hand to Nader, asking for the scroll. Nader handed it to him and Sylvain proceeded. “This Myson Agara uses different language than what should be used.” Sylvain began to read aloud, “His Imperial Majesty Dimitri I, King of Faerghus, Grand Duke of Leicester, Liberator of Adrestia, and Emperor of Fodlan” he paused before continuing. “King Dimitri has apparently crowned himself Emperor and added Grand Duke and Liberator to his titles. Now, in the peace conference of Fodlan, after the war had ended, the Archbishop and lords of Fodlan decided that there would be no Imperial title. Dimitri would be King of a united Fodlan, not Emperor. Empires have a bad history of being broken up in Fodlan, and the lords all decided that a different way forward that broke free of the past would be wisest. There has been no Coronation ceremony that I have heard about, which means he has declared the founding of an Empire without the blessing of the Church of Seiros or the Archbishop.” 

Sylvain took another look at the paper.  _ Myson Agara.  _ Who the hell was that? Sylvain had never heard of noble nor general by that name in Fodlan. “Thirdly. The upper ministry of Faerghus has changed. Last I heard, Gustave Dominic was the Minister of War. The King has shifted his upper ranks to accommodate this… Myson. Perhaps he is working independent of Dimitri to cause war, to what end, I have no idea.” Having finished giving his analysis of Fodlan affairs, Sylvain stepped down to ground level.

The adjutant of Coin spoke up, “Well, that's all well and good information, but it does little to help us now. What do we do?”

Again, the Adjutants began to murmur amongst themselves. They didn’t have long though, because Claude stood up from his throne and the room fell to a hush. 

“Bardia, Adjutant of strategy, send word to all Almyran soldiers across the country, order them to amass here in the Capital and prepare them for marching orders. Azar, Captain of the Barbarossa Corps, the Barbarossa Corps is to accelerate the training of the recruits, get them battle ready, fitted for armor, and have new weapons forged. If King Dimitri is the one who ordered our diplomats be killed then we must prepare. Niloufar, Adjutant of the Census, the Kingdom is to begin mobilization immediately, we have no other recourse but to prepare for a protracted war with Fodlan. You are to use Census data to create conscription offices in areas with large population densities, recruitment shall be volunteer only. Ashkan, Adjutant of coin, hasten the collection of taxes across all provinces of the Kingdom and give me a financial report as soon as possible. Roxana, Adjutant of Oceans, order the immediate cessation of trade with Fodlan. Bring our ships back home and have them fitted with weapons.”

Claude took a deep breath. “Next, I have an official proclamation.” All of the Adjutants and Nader kneeled before the King to hear his royal decree. “I, King Claude, Protector of Almyra hereby designate my heir presumptive to the Kingdom.” The room broke out into gasps and everyone began to look around. Claude continued. “In sight of the Gods and Men, I choose Nader, Vizier of the Kingdom of Almyra to succeed me should my health fail me, and I draw my last breath. May the gods watch over us and guide our blades to victory.”

Sylvain’s eyes widened in confusion. The room echoed Claude, “May the gods watch over us and guide our blades to victory.”  _ Is this how Almyran succession works? _

Claude began to walk down the steps, and stopped in front of Sylvain. “Sylvain, Adjutant of Fodlan affairs.” 

“Yes my Liege?” Sylvain said, still kneeling. Claude reached down offering Sylvain a hand. Sylvain took it and Claude pulled him to his feet, then stared right into his eyes.

“Will you marry me?”

Sylvain felt his heartbeat drum against his rib cage. He felt weak in the knees and thought he might collapse.  _ Did… Did I just hear that right?  _ He looked around the room, and found all sets of eyes looking at him. 

Claude took one of Sylvain’s hands and placed it against his uncovered chest. “Sylvain Jose Gautier, will you marry me?” He asked again. Sylvain looked into Claude’s eyes. They shone a bright jade, and Sylvain could feel Claude’s heart beating like a million drums. Sylvain saw the sincerity in Claude’s eyes and responded with the only real answer. “Yes.” He said tentatively. “Yes, Yes, absolutely yes I will marry you.” He added, having found his confidence. Claude broke into a smile, pulled Sylvain in by the waist, and kissed him in front of the room of the room of Adjutants.

After pulling away from Sylvain, Claude continued. “Right then. The ceremony will be held in three days, Xerxes, Adjutant of Ceremonies, that’s up to you.”

“Three days?!” Shouted the poor adjutant.

“Yes. Three days. On the fourth day Sylvain and I will be traveling to Fodlan to meet with the Lord and Lady Goneril, from there I intend to proceed to Garreg Mach Monastery and seek the aid of the Archbishop. For that reason, I have chosen now to pick my successor.” Claude turned and looked to Nader. “Nader. You are my greatest asset, and you should be King after me.” He smiled at the older man. “If you can outlive me of course, and I don’t intend to allow that to happen.” Nader burst into laughter, a refreshing sound even in these dire moments. Claude continued, a smile on his face, but eyes that were only serious, “When the armies have finished mobilizing, march them to Fodlan’s throat and prepare for an invasion.” Nader nodded.

Sylvain’s head was spinning. This morning he was lazing in bed with Claude, now… Now they were probably going to war and he was getting married. What was going on with the world? 

“Hey.” Claude placed his hand under Sylvain’s chin and brought his lips to meet his own. They kissed again and Sylvain felt himself calm down as Claude wrapped him in his Kingly arms and played with his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Claude smiled. “Now. I need you to pen letters to the Goneril siblings, Queen Petra of Brigid, Archbishop Byleth, and Lord Fraldarius~” he added a particular twang to that last name. 

Sylvain gave him the side eye. 

“Kidding! I’m just kidding! Besidesssss, in three days you will eternally belong to me.” And then he winked. It was one of his famous trademarks. And Sylvain fell in love all over again. 

Sylvain leaned in to whisper in Claude’s ear, “And you to me, my  _ Liege.” _

They kissed once more before separating to see to their duties. For a sweet moment they could almost forget that the world was being upturned once again. Soon, the reality of the situation would hit like a boar, and Almyra would march to war.

\-----

Petra, Caspar, and Lantana walked the short way back to the community area with the final words of the dead rider. Lantana struck a match and lit a lantern sitting atop their table. The two sat down beside him flanked by some of the elders of the village who had assisted with the rider and wyvern. 

“Grandfather, give the letter to me, so I may read it.” Lantana hesitated but Petra held her hand out expectantly. “I am Queen now grandfather, this is my business first.” Lantana sighed and a frown crept into his calm features. When he frowned like this, he showed his age; Caspar wondered if this was how it was for all grandparents who have to allow their children and grandchildren to grow up and work.

Lantana relented and passed her the scroll. Petra’s hand shook a bit as she unbound the blood soaked ribbon.

She took a deep breath, and began to read aloud. 

“I have escaped the Kingdom Capital of Fhirdiad. Adjutant Sylvain sent me and other envoys to the capital to enter negotiations about the sale of wyverns. I write this while my wyvern eats and drinks, I hope I have not been followed, but I have been dodging Kingdom Fliers all day.” Petra’s face fell as she continued to the next line. “Our team has been accused of the attempted murder of the Queen. Upon arrival to the capital, we were forced to stay in a single room for two days, no one would meet us. They fed us, and allowed us to walk the palace, but nothing more. Fellow rider Turan and I went out one night to be alone, and when we returned, we found kingdom soldiers leading away our brothers in chains.” Petra squinted at the hastily scribbled words written in a tongue foreign to her own. “They accused them of harming the queen and said they would be executed along another man named Gustan, or something. I did not hear well, but Turan said he was important. The two of us snuck out of the castle and to the sky stables where our steeds were. We quickly flew away but were split up. I have flown so off course I don’t know where I am. Should I fall, I only hope that should anyone find this letter, they allow King Claude of Almyra, or his friend, the Archbishop know that we are innocent. Please, also tell my sister, Azar, that I love her.”

Lantana scratched his chin and Caspar finally let go of the breath he had been holding. “Someone tried to murder Marianne?!”

Lantana spoke up, “It seems though that the kingdom blamed the wrong people. If the Almyrans there didn’t do it, then why blame them? I doubt they accused them without knowing the delegation was innocent. Perhaps the kingdom lied.”

Petra began to talk now, “He said he was escaping soldiers all day, do you think he flew to Brigid not out of want but to escape? Brigid is the wrong direction by many hundreds of miles. And who is Gustan? I know not any Gustan in Faerghus.” 

“Maybe… maybe it wasn’t Gustan, but Gustav?” Caspar spoke, casting a worried glance to Petra.

“The father of Annette?”

Caspar’s demeanor changed at the mention of Annette. Many of his friends and allies had been buried after Gronder, but Annette… no one deserved to die. No one. Especially not her. He could still remember how he fought, coated in blood, furiously punching soldiers and smashing them with his axe to defend one of his best friends… He fought so hard at Gronder, but it hadn’t mattered. The sword had stabbed through many of Annette’s vital organs, and even when Mercedes arrived to heal her… it wasn't enough. She was too wounded and Mercedes ran out of healing magic. Annette died attempting to comfort Mercedes and Caspar, the people who she loved so dearly. She left the world with a smile and words of love, but Mercede’s heart wrenching screams still haunted Caspar’s dreams. He remembered Mercedes grabbing Crusher, Annette’s relic… and wildly launching magic at the soldiers who had killed her best friend. It was horrifying. Flames erupting and turning lightly armored soldiers to ash, the screams of heavily suited men as she blasted them with lightning that coursed through their bodies. He remembered the way Mercedes wielded the giant hammer, as though it weighed nothing, and how she smashed soldiers bodies to bits with it… One man had the entire right side of his head caved in when Mercedes swung that hammer, Caspar realized why it was called Crusher on that day. Mercedes was an avenging angel… seeing her snap with rage and grief… it was something Caspar would never forget. After felling… dozens of enemies, Caspar had been forced to drag Mercedes away from the field, lest she die too. The two of them had mourned for weeks after that awful day.

It had been two years but Caspar still remembered Annette’s smile and her silly tunes, and knew he would never see or hear them again. 

“Yeah… Annette’s dad.”

Petra knew what Caspar had witnessed at Gronder, and she placed his hand in her own before speaking, “But… he works for Dimitri. He would never do that. He revoked the goddess and swore his life to the kingdom, I remember him yelling it…”

Caspar remembered too, he remembered Gustave curse the goddess and renounce his faith when he saw his daughter asleep, as she would be for the rest of time. It didn’t seem possible for Gustave to do anything against the royal family, they were his only reason to live any longer. 

Caspar raised his voice, “He wouldn’t do it, Dimitri knows it too. Gustave cares about them too much. What is Dimitri thinking!? Did he… Did he actually execute him?!” Caspar couldn’t believe that the man Gustave fought for would turn on him, he didn’t want to. He also remembered Dimitri at his worst and wondered if that man was capable of this.

“Petra.” Lantana spoke up, “What will you do? You have dangerous information there. The smart thing for Brigid would be to burn the letter and never speak of it again.”

“We can’t do that! We… we have to tell someone! We can’t let this happen!” Caspar stood and was shouting now. Lantana raised his hands and attempted to calm Caspar down. 

“You didn’t let me finish boy.” The old man sighed and took a seat once more. “I know that the two of you could not allow an injustice of this order to stand. If you are both absolutely sure that this Gustave did not attempt to murder the Queen, and that the King is acting unfairly, I suggest you go to your friend the Archbishop. Perhaps he can help you save Gustave.”

Petra nodded. “I think that is the best thing we can do. Let’s go Caspar.”

“Wait. We’re leaving now? Right now? In the middle of the night? Hell yeah!”

Caspar turned to follow her but Lantana spoke up as the two attempted to leave.

“Petra, you must tell your people before you leave, and at least come up with a good excuse as to what you are doing. You cannot just leave them without a ruler.”

“You will be ruling them grandfather. It is what you have done all along. I select you to rule while I am away.”

Lantana sighed, “I abdicated to you. You need to appoint someone else to oversee this for you. It’s time I let you rule, and let you make decisions.”

Petra simply replied, “Very well grandfather. You will assist someone who I appoint then. We will leave in the morning after I have chosen someone to watch over Brigid while I am away. I don’t believe we will be gone for many days, it should only be a few weeks.”

The old man nodded, “Then get some rest dear blossom, and you too Caspar. You have travel ahead of you once you sort everything in the morning.” 

The two nodded and turned to leave for their bungalow, Lantana cast a worried glance after them, and breathed in the crisp night air. It was going to rain tomorrow. He hoped that the rains weren’t an omen, but in his long eighty-seven years of life, he had gained a sixth sense for these things; and he was greatly afraid that once more, things were going to get worse before they got better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very soon, the three stories will converge into one; I am extremely excited to keep working on this project! I have plans to add a few new characters and a new ship very soon! That being said, I won't be uploading like regular in four days, Christmas is here so my next upload will be between a week and ten days from now. I'll tweet when I've updated; the twitter link is in my bio! Happy Holidays to everyone, if you don't like the holidays, (Like I tend not to) I hope it is at least a peaceful time for you!
> 
> I am very very sorry about Annette. I decided that some characters from each side were going to die, war is hell and the survivors would definitely feel adverse effects from losing allies and friends. I had a horrible time picking characters who were going to die at Gronder and her's was the hardest choice because I just adore her. I'M SO SORRY. Six students in total died that day and I haven't decided if I'm going to make a very heavy side fic of all of their final moments or continue giving snippets through other characters. If you have a preference, I would love to hear in the comments.


	7. One Night in Fhirdiad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three moons ago, in the Castle of Fhirdiad, a ball was held in celebration of the second anniversary of the end of the war. All seemed well and the King and Queen were happy, joyful, and in high spirits. Little did anyone know, this was the beginning of the end of joyful peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year~ one week late. The holidays were crazy busy for me which was why I haven't uploaded in a few weeks. I'll be returning to regular uploads from here, though I am changing the schedule.
> 
> I didn't give any hint about this chapter at the end of chapter 6, it's special, answers a few questions- yet poses more, I hope you enjoy!

_ ~~Three Moons Ago… Castle Fhirdiad~~ _

Dimitri slid across the dancefloor, waltzing with the grace of a bear. At the very least he wasn’t as bad at dancing as he used to be. Marianne liked to dance and she often dragged him along to teach him.  _ “Kings have to be good dancers Dimitri, you’ll be hosting many balls. It won’t do to be the most ungraceful man in the room.”  _ He could hear her words ring through his head as he continued to dance as best he could. Marianne squeezed his hand, and led him back into rhythm. Marianne, right in front of him, dancing while three moons pregnant. Truly, nothing could stop her. Her lips curled into a smile under her mask and she took the lead, not that anyone would know that but him. She was an expert dancer and made it look like he had everything in hand. She executed a dip (that he absolutely knew was coming) and then expertly spun them to the music. He cursed his past self for focusing on the lance more than dancing; they seemed to be of equal import now that the war was over. 

Marianne deftly led them through the rest of the dance, waltzing along other nobles, merchants, and generals. This was the second anniversary of the end of the war, and he had decided, well.  _ Marianne and his advisors  _ decided to host a Masquerade Ball. Invitations were sent to all corners of the land. Many were in attendance; even Felix had crawled out of his manor, most likely just to have a few nights with Ashe and not because he cared for parties, which Dimitri knew he absolutely didn’t. He felt bad about putting so much work on Felix, but he was one of the few reliable people that Dimitri could count on. Dimitri spied him dancing with Ashe some feet away. Felix was staring into Ashe’s eyes, and it seemed Ashe was leading the dance, Felix was no slouch however; his nimble sword training made him particularly adept at footwork. Dimitri hoped that Felix would be rejuvenated by the time he returned home, his work pile was going to grow again. 

Claude and Sylvain were dancing close by. Claude, wearing apparently the most formal of Almyran kingly wear. It was… certainly something. There were few people interested in men who had managed to ignore his bare chest and toned abs. Even Dimitri had to gawk for a few moments when they met again. They had concluded a deal earlier; many of the Kingdom Wyverns were dead after the war, and the kingdom had a good harvest this year giving him a surplus of money and a depleted military. What better way to foster ties than purchasing Almyran thoroughbred wyverns? It was the perfect solution. All four of his comrades were smiling, even Felix who was so transfixed upon Ashe. He was glad that they were happy together, they deserved it.

Marianne squeezed his hand again, he fell behind a few steps every time he got into his headspace; thank the Goddess Marianne was here to help lead him. She looked beautiful tonight, wearing that lightweight golden gown. The theme was Masquerade- and celebration of peace. The only colors allowed were red, gold, blue, and black- a harkening to the war, and a celebration of its completion. He had done his best to ensure that everyone knew this was a Federation of Fodlan, and that all people- regardless of their former allegiance, would be safe under his rule. The new flag of the Federation held all three colors of the former nations in a checkered pattern. The Crest of Blayddyd, emblazoned on a shield sat in the middle, shining green, the color of the Goddess. There would be no discrimination, and few people, except the most heinous, were tried for war crimes. Marianne took the opportunity to wear gold- Leicester gold. 

He continued to dance with Marianne; her gown shone in the ballroom and her deer and antler mask covered half of her face. She also wore a golden deer choker, literally made of gold, antlers wrapping around her slender and beautiful neck. Dimitri was enamored with her. Marianne crushed his hand as she led them into the final trick of the dance, he was going to have to apologize later, his mind was everywhere but dancing right now. She executed their turn masterfully, and then slowly released her death grip on his hand before entering a curtsy as he gave a bow. 

The partner switch came up now and he stood with arms splayed, inviting any Lady or Lord to dance with the king. He noted that Ashe had taken up arms with Sylvain and Felix with Claude to his right. Ingrid was going to dance with Ferdinand and Marianne had found Dedue’s lumbering body in the crowd. Dimitri smiled at the sight. He had been fearful his wife and... something more than best friend, would not take kindly together. But, they had proven him dead wrong. Marianne and Dedue had become as thick as thieves. He often found them sipping tea and chatting about state affairs or baby names. The fact that the two people he loved most in the world were so close made him happy, truly, he was lucky to have them. He… still had not resolved his feelings with Dedue yet. They had kissed, among  _ other things _ , on many occasions before and after the war. He was sure he loved Marianne, yet he also loved Dedue. He had noticed the looks that the two shared with each other also… Perhaps they should all have a talk one of these days. He smiled and looked away, yes…  _ they should.  _

A tall and rather busty woman sauntered towards Dimitri. She was elegant and slender, wearing a flowing black dress with a red scarf. Everything hugged her body tightly and she wore a full face mask coated in feathers and jewels. Dimitri didn’t recognize her, perhaps she was the wife or sister of a lord, perhaps still she was a Duchess or Countess from a province somewhere in Fodlan. He could hardly be expected to remember every noble under his rule. 

“Might I have the pleasure of this dance my Lord?” She came close and spoke to Dimitri. She had a melodic voice, and flowing blonde hair that cascaded well down her back. 

“I would be honored, my Lady.” He responded respectfully as he took her hand and kissed it. They clasped hands and he held her waist as the music began anew. Now that his safety net was gone dancing with his best friend, Dimitri focused all his attention to dancing correctly. The elegant woman had no issue dancing with him so he assumed he was doing at least passably. 

The two danced for a few minutes to the song in silence. Dimitri had danced many dances like this tonight already. With a random lord or lady he would dance to a song, and part with thanks as they ran off to their spouse or friends with glee at having danced with the king. He expected this to go much the same when she began to talk. “I apologize, this is a masquerade but it's fairly impossible to mistake you for anyone but the king. How is your wife? I celebrated with my love when we heard a royal child was coming.”

Dimitri replied, “She is in wonderful health, I must admit, she seems rather superhuman at times. Here she is, three months pregnant and yet still able to dance circles around me. She never ceases to amaze me.”

The woman laughed, it felt strangely and unsettlingly familiar. “She is a beautiful one. I hope the two of you have many happy children in the future,  _ my lord _ . Such ugly war; I’m glad it was resolved. I just hope nothing like that happens again, it would be a shame for your children to lose their father like you did.” The music slowed to a halt and the woman curtsied. Dimitri bowed uncomfortably and watched as the woman waved and walked off to a man with long dark hair. He was wearing a mask like hers- full face, feathers and jewels. Dimitri couldn’t place it. The two of them felt familiar, but he just couldn’t tell why. He certainly felt unsettled with their presence. 

Marianne walked back over to him now and clasped his hand in hers as she led him away from the floor. “Marianne, do you recognize them?” They looked back towards the pair, but they had seemingly disappeared into the crowd. Unsettled, Dimitri dropped the question, “Nevermind. I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

Marianne cuddled into Dimitri’s side and whispered, “I’m getting tired, we’ve been dancing for hours. It wouldn’t be too scandalous if the royal couple retired to bed would it?” Marianne checked the clock, it was already well past midnight. 

“I don’t think so at all.” The two exited the ballroom, the other couples could dance as long as they wanted, everyone had a room rented to them in the palace. The two left the grand ballroom and walked to their royal bedchambers, arm in arm. It was a cold Faerghus evening; the wind howled overhead and whistled through the cracks of the royal palace. Behind them, the ballroom shone brightly, breaking the darkness of the night. 

They whispered and talked about the events of the day as they walked, arm in arm, cold making their breaths leave in puffs of gentle mist. Dimitri was excited about the deal with Almyra, Marianne was excited that Dimitri hadn’t fallen on his face while dancing. The dance with the strange woman still had Dimitri on edge. “I wish I knew who those two nobles were.”

“It  _ was  _ a Masquerade Dimitri. The whole point was you wouldn’t know who anyone was.” She laughed and caressed his cheek.

“I know I know. Everyone  _ always  _ knows who we are though, she certainly did. I just feel… odd. I definitely know them, but how?”

“Let it go for now Dimitri. I’m sure they were minor nobles of Adrestia here to mingle, like nobles do.” 

Marianne stopped and smiled at Dimitri. Gently, she placed her gloved hands on each side of his face, and leaned up to kiss him. She was gentle, and sweet; it was a perfectly romantic kiss, lacking any urgency. Dimitri enjoyed the sensation and rested his forehead against hers as they broke their lips apart.

“Your highnesses?”

From behind them Dimitri heard a familiar voice. As he turned to look, there stood Dedue, looking slightly uncomfortable in his suit and bowtie. He looked positively dashing, handsome, long hair pulled back into a pony tail, scars criss-crossing his face. 

“Dedue.” Marianne smiled and held a hand out to the tall man, gesturing him walk forward and take it. He looked around, perhaps afraid someone might see, before walking forward and gently clasping her hand. She smiled at him and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “You are an excellent dancer Dedue, far better than Dimitri I must say.”

“Hey now. I’m… uh. Well. I mean… Well, certainly I’ve at least improved!”

Dedue and Marianne gently laughed, so similar they were. “If my input is of any worth, you danced quite well tonight my liege.” Dedue’s eyes revealed no hint of a lie.

“Well… Marianne… Mostly did the leading... if I’m to be entirely honest.” 

“Yes. I did. You were impossible tonight Dimitri, I swear.” She giggled as she feigned annoyance. “Would you care to escort us to our chambers Dedue? We were thinking of turning in for the night.” Marianne held Dedue’s hand, and Dimitri’s arm, flanked by two people whom she could no longer imagine life without.

“It would be my pleasure, your highnesses.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes as the three continued walking through the courtyard, “You can drop all the formalities when it’s only us Dedue. I swear I will start referring to you as Captain if you keep it up.”

“You, of course, may do so my Liege.”

“Oh, Dedue…” Marianne squeezed his hand and giggled gently, “Whatever will we do with you?”

Dimitri had a few ideas about that, but chose not to relay them at this particular moment.

“I must be vigilant, it would not be acceptable for someone in my position as a captain to be heard using such informal words when addressing you.”

“Quit being such a worrywart Dedue! I swear it will be fine. I’m King! What can they do to you?” Dimitri laughed and Marianne giggled. Dedue smiled but did not change his stalwart position on the matter.

“One day Dedue… we will break you of that habit.” Marianne smiled and squeezed his hand again. Dedue felt a slight blush creep into his cheeks, hopefully, it would be hidden by the darkness of the night. He really did love these two.

The trio walked into the palace and into the hallway where the royal bedchamber was. Dedue’s chambers were next door, close, so that he could jump to their defense at any moment. He had insisted on personally guarding their bed chambers for at least one night shift before they had settled on the compromise that he sleep in the nearby room. 

Marianne allowed Dedue’s hand to fall from her own and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. He was too tall still, so she gently wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to find his cheek. “Sleep well Dedue. I shall see you for our morning tea.” With a smile she pulled away and allowed for Dimitri to wrap Dedue in a hug. 

“Rest well friend, and I shall see you at our meeting in the afternoon.” With a smile, Dedue bid them goodnight and stepped into his room. Dimitri and Marianne walked the short distance forward and entered their own bedroom.

Tired, Marianne dressed and put on a light nightgown, Faerghus was cold but Dimitri always kept her plenty warm. Dimitri simply stripped out of his clothes altogether and climbed into bed wearing his underwear. Marianne’s head hit the pillow next to him, and she smiled as she faced him.

Marianne slid her fingers under Dimitri’s eyepatch and pushed it away from his face. It fell off the bed, forgotten as she began to gently comb through his long, golden locks. They were getting longer, still, he saw no reason to cut them. Dimitri relaxed into her touch, allowing himself to be soothed by her gentle and soft hands as they raked over his scalp and through his hair. Dimitri felt himself drifting, she could always make him fall asleep by stroking his hair, no matter the events of the day. So he pulled his wife close and wrapped his arms around her body. Marianne sighed and rested her face into Dimitri’s chest, and the two slowly drifted to sleep. 

\-----

Marianne woke to a loud thud. Reflexes kicked in, trained from a time of war; she shot up and spied a dark figure at the foot of her bead. “Dimitri!” She called even as the room cooled beyond freezing and she summoned forth icicles from the floor. The figure deftly jumped out of the way and lunged at her. She rolled out of bed and landed on both feet. Magic sparked at the end of her fingers and she launched thoron, but the figure was too fast and dodged once more, landing on their bed. Without hesitation, white magic flowed from her palms and the room became enveloped with a blinding light as her bed began to splinter, crack, and burn away- destroyed by the holy magic of her aura spell. The figure turned to ash, alongside her bed and she took a deep breath, only to be wrapped in a freezing chain from behind. “DIMITRI HELP MFff...” she attempted to call for Dimitri, but was cut off as the figure gagged her with a cloth. 

“There there, my Queen. You won’t be separated from your sweet king.” A condescending voice mocked her. It was a voice she felt she recognized, but couldn’t place. The figure dragged her to the foot of the destroyed bed where Dimitri lay, wrapped in chains, also gagged, and with a head wound that was bleeding. Her eyes went wide as she leaned into him. He was wide awake, eyes full of rage that she had not seen since two years ago when he had yet lost himself. He looked to her and nodded, letting her know he was ok. 

“My, my, King Dimitri. How sad that your pregnant wife put up a better fight than you did!” A female voice mocked and began to laugh hysterically from behind a hood and mask. “Don’t worry. Neither of your lives are in danger~  _ for now. _ I intend to take  _ goooood  _ care of you.” The woman began to laugh again, hysterical and uglyr. 

“Now now. Leave the teasing for later.” A hooded figure spoke from the right.

“Oh, do let me revel a bit. The woman gripped Dimitri’s face and forced him to look up towards her. His eyes were blazing with rage and hatred. “This one owes me a particular debt. After all, he is the one who  _ scarred _ me.”  __

Dimitri attempted to lunge at her, but she yanked his chain and he fell to his knees again. “Ah ah ah, I wouldn’t do that.” The woman ignited her palm with fire and closed in on Marianne. “Wouldn’t want to accidentally scar your beautiful wife~ or your  _ baby.”  _ She moved her hand towards Marianne’s stomach. Dimitri’s eyes flashed with fear but Marianne stared into the woman’s hidden eyes with resolution and defiance. “How cute. You’re so stoic  _ My Queen.” _

The second hooded figure walked over and stood by the woman, “Your lives are safe for the time being, we have grand plans for the two of you, do enjoy your time with us.”

The hooded man clapped, and the room filled with figures in dark robes. “Take them. Lock them in a cell, nice and cozy.” 

The figures grabbed Dimitri and Marianne and stood them up. Dimitri struggled in vain against the chains and hands on his body, Marianne stared into Dimitri’s eyes, a serene and calm look on her face. The woman’s fingers flashed with light. “Toodleoo.” And in an instant, Dimitri and Marianne were gone.

\-----

The door to the royal bedchamber blew open- splinters flying everywhere as Dedue dashed in, fists at the ready to bludgeon any who were a threat to his King and Queen, his  _ friends.  _

He had been awoken by the sound of magic from the room of the royal couple, it sounded like Marianne was fighting. He heard splintering and crashes as he shot out of bed and looked around for a weapon. He couldn’t see an axe or sword or anything in the darkness and instead chose to dash off- his fists would do fine. He bounded the short distance down the hallway, footsteps heavy and frantic with fear for them, before smashing into the room.

His fears had apparently been misplaced. The room looked normal, the bed was slightly tousled, the air felt cool, but that was Faerghus. Marianne was kneeling at the foot of the bed, holding what appeared to be ice against a wound on Dimitri’s head.

With a confused expression, Dedue calmly asked, “Is… Is everything all right your highnesses?”

“I was just clumsy. I tripped on a shoe and hit my head on the side of the bed. I’m fine Dedue.” Dedue raised an eyebrow and looked to Marianne. 

"How is the wound?”

Marianne’s hand began to glow with light as she removed the ice and began to heal his wound.. “Oh, it’s just a scratch, he will be fine by morning. I cast some magic to ice his bruise. Thank you for your concern Dedue. You may return to your quarters.”

Dedue nodded and turned to leave. “Well then… Good night your highnesses.” 

“Good night.” The two responded in unison. 

Dedue walked out of the room but stood in the hallway for a moment, baffled. Something was seriously wrong. What was all of the magic and splintering of wood he heard? Dimitri wasn’t so clumsy as to trip on a shoe, even in darkness. The way they spoke was another issue that Dedue couldn’t shake.

Whenever he asked a question regarding the health or safety of the king or queen, they would always answer the same. It was their code phrase to ensure that Dedue always knew they were safe. “Quit being such a worrywart Dedue, I swear I’m fine.” Dedue so constantly asked about their health that it had become a running joke of sorts to reply to any question with that. 

“Can I get you anything from town for the baby?” - “Quit being such a worrywart Dedue, I swear I’m fine.” “How have you been resting my liege?” - “Quit being such a worrywart Dedue, I swear I’m fine.” Marianne had even answered the same when Dedue asked if he could pour her more tea. “Quit being such a worrywart Dedue! I swear- I can pour my own tea!” She had giggled behind a palm, eyes full of joy.

The fact that neither of them echoed the oft repeated phrase sat like a stone in the bottom of Dedue’s stomach.  _ Something is wrong.  _

Dedue walked one door down to his room and went inside. He sat down and wrote in a journal about everything he had seen: Dimitri bleeding on the floor, Marianne healing him, what they said. As Dedue thought back, he could remember Marianne scowling and Dimitri with a rather blank look on his face, as though it did not hurt at all. He wrote this down too. He wrote down what he heard- splintering and magic. Perhaps he was being paranoid, as he always was. Perhaps he had been dreaming? That was a possibility. Perhaps he was overreacting.

Perhaps not though. If something was wrong- Dedue was going to find out what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something evil this way comes, and it has snagged the royals. I'm excited to be adding Dimitri, Marianne, and Dedue into the mix, and excited to get to the rising action, next week I'll be adding yet more characters in Lindy and Byleth.
> 
> I said I was going to edit my upload schedule and here it is: I'll be posting once a week from now on for this fic. Felix week and Ashe week are in February and March respectively and I am going to do 14 Ashelix fics to celebrate, I need time and preparation to write those while I work on this main project- afterwards, if the fic isn't done yet, I might return to uploads every four days, depending on what projects I have planned.


	8. Stress and Baking at Garreg Mach Monastery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt and Byleth, as well as the rest of the monastery prepare for the arrival of the three entourages. Each deal with stress in their own way, falling back on habits of comfort, though there is little to be found. A meeting of the Synod suggests reasons for the change in Dimitri and Marianne- nothing sounds good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, finally at the monastery- finally adding in more characters. There is always more intrigue to be had.

Linhardt stood on the grand bridge connecting the Cathedral of Garreg Mach from the rest of the monastery. He stood, staring out at the low hanging clouds and the trees that rustled in the wind below. The mountains towered, yet the monastery dwarfed them, standing taller still. An eagle let loose its cry and dove towards the trees, likely having spotted prey to feed upon. Linhardt continued to stare.

Some months ago he had heard of a phenomena called the “call of the void.” It was, apparently, the temptation to jump from a tall height when overlooking an area from high. People with no inclination towards death reported feeling the urge as they looked out and over the world, some students and teachers had even said they felt it standing atop this bridge. Linhardt had decided to study this, and see if he ever felt the temptation. He had been coming here, every day, for the last five moons, yet never did he feel the call. It was routine now, the crisp air was refreshing, the scenery was beautiful, and he often found interesting people to talk to while enjoying a moment in the sun- overlooking all of Fodlan. Today, he did not feel the call of the void, just the deep and unrelenting feeling of exhaustion in his bones.

A gust of wind rose up the mountain and Lindhardt felt his hair lift and blow behind him, unhindered. His hair had gotten longer since the war, it went down his back and rested near his waist. He no longer put it up, or in fact did anything with it. It flowed freely all the time now, he had no reason to tie it up when there wasn't war to worry about, no one was going to pull it or attempt to use it against him. The chain of his glasses blew too. His eyesight wasn’t heinously bad, but if he didn’t wear them he often had horrendous headaches. As the new librarian of the monastery, and co-crest researcher- headaches were not something he could afford to be bogged down by. 

Linhardt sighed discontentedly. He and Hanneman had been working together for almost two years now, looking for alternate uses of crests. The nobility was changing- crests were going to become a rarity in the world, but he and Hanneman had a vision where crest bearers could use their crests for good- and not for war. It looked like they were about to be used in war yet again. 

Two weeks ago, the Archbishop received a letter from Felix, the obstinate swordsman who had taken up romancing his good friend Ashe. The picture the two painted of the king and queen was grim, worse, they were coming to the monastery. Worse beyond worse, they were bringing an army. As Byleth, the knights, the teachers, and everyone else began preparations, another letter arrived, not but two days later. 

Queen Petra of Brigid, and her betrothed, Caspar, another of Linhardt’s good friends, wrote, painting yet another ugly scene: Gustave, accused of attempted murder, he and the Almyran delegation being locked up. The two were also coming to Garreg Mach, seeking an audience with the archbishop, letter of an escaped Almyran soldier in their possessions. Still reeling from the first message, the monastery began to prepare for the arrival of the Brigid royals. Another letter arrived the next day.

King Claude and Sylvain, apparently newly wed, were on their way to the monastery. They were bringing a legion of Barbarossa riders with them, and the Lord and Lady Goneril. They brought the worst news yet: a beheaded Almyran rider, and a declaration of war. 

The monastery was in a frenzy, everything was a mess. Students had been conscripted to help prepare for royal visitors, the grain stores were opened- soldiers were going to be needing feeding. The members of the Knights of Seiros were on guard and on edge. He was technically a knight, as were Mercedes, and Emile. Flayn and Seteth had remained at the monastery- both were knights as well. All of them were on the Synod of Seiros with Archbishop Byleth- as was Rhea. The Synod had only been forced to meet twice until now. They first met to discuss the crowning of Dimitri, and again to discuss Dimitri’s plans for reform in Fodlan. The Church had formally approved the actions of the king then. Now, the Synod was meeting every day as more news flooded into the monastery. 

Felix, Ashe, Ingrid, and a man named Cassius arrived first. That had been a week ago. They had brief meetings together, but Byleth knew he needed to have dialogue with the king to clear any misunderstandings and suspicions; Linhardt didn’t think that was going to go well based on what he had heard. Ingrid was helping Mercedes with her classes at the academy, Felix was often found at the training grounds, Ashe in tow. Ashe’s siblings were always near their brother when not in class. Cassius wandered the monastery helping with tasks here and there- occasionally he fished, other times he cooked, sometimes he was in the greenhouse. He seemed to be proficient with just about everything and had become fast friends with Seteth and the professors. 

The other two delegations were expected shortly, within a few days. Linhardt had already been awake for well over sixty hours, he was exhausted. The little catnaps he had here and there were like filling a leaky bucket, one drop at a time. 

Linhardt worried about Dimitri; surely by now the king had caught wind of not just one but _three_ delegations meeting in the middle of the continent _he ruled over._ If everything they had been told was to be believed… Linhardt couldn’t imagine how the king would react. He didn’t even seem like the feral monster of a man he had been a few years ago. He just seemed soulless and cold. Perhaps it was funny thinking that, he knew how aloof he seemed to others. 

The winds changed direction, blowing his long and lovely locks directly into his face. Lazily, Linhardt attempted to wrangle his hair in, to absolutely no avail. With a sigh, holding his hair in a fist, Linhardt began to walk to the Archbishop’s private study.

The Archbishop had their own chambers, that wasn’t where he and Byleth stayed though. Byleth still allowed Rhea use of that room, it was hers for centuries already anyway. The two of them instead stayed in a large tower beside the Cathedral. It was large and had multiple floors. It was private, calm, and something Linhardt enjoyed- except the stairs. He knew this was where Byleth would be found, the sixth floor was a study and library combo room. Rhea rarely used this tower but it found a new purpose since he and Byleth moved in. 

The walk was uneventful, no one stopped to speak to him. Everyone was running around with panicked or otherwise stressed out looks upon their visage. The war had only been recently finished, no one wanted to deal with another. 

The sky was blue. The grass was green. The wind blew wheat across the plains at Gronder. Humanity waged war. Some things were irrefutable constants. 

Linhardt opened the door to his tower house. The scent of fresh bread and butter filled his nostrils. It smelled divine, Byleth must have been baking. Cooking seemed to be a nervous habit of his husband’s. Linhardt didn’t take any joy in the stress of Byleth, but stress did have it’s perks: like fresh bread and sweet buns. Even though he knew he had yet to eat, and the sun was already soon to set, he found he had no appetite. Usually he was so quick to jump on the fruits of Byleth’s stress too. 

The kitchen was on the third floor, about thirty steps too many away. With a sigh, Linhardt began to scale. His eyes were blurry, despite his glasses, his body felt heavy and his head threatened to roll off his neck. He needed some sleep, Byleth was going to tear him apart for not taking care of himself. 

As he rounded the top of the spiral staircase, he spotted Byleth, baking with his back to the staircase. Next to him, bread baked in the oven. Linhardt immediately noticed hair. It was hard to ignore when Byleth’s hair was long and beginning to curl. It was soft and luxurious to the touch. Linhardt had been impartial to his husband deciding to grow it, but now… now he was a fan. Byleth's hair was up, tied back, and yet, it still hung over his shoulders, it simply refused to obey. It looked so soft, Lin knew if he touched it, it would only make his drowsiness worse.

The second thing Linhardt noticed were the clothes that Byleth wore. They were… interesting. He said that they were clothes similar to what Sothis wore and that he felt more comfortable wearing them, that they felt familiar. The dark purple fabric flowed down his waist, though Linhardt knew in front that his navel was exposed and the trousers were short- like a child’s. He had a few multicolored braids in his hair, white, pink and green as well as some ribbons of the same colors hanging from his clothes. He wore a silver necklace which covered some of his exposed chest. The hem of his shirt was low, and exposed his collar bones, stopping just short of showing off his nipples. He also wore the Circlet of the Archbishop, though not Rhea's. He had commissioned a new one, the other one was too flashy and looked silly on anyone's head but Rhea's. The new circlet was silver, and had an emerald gem resting in front. Two emerald earrings completed the look and Linhardt had to admit... he looked divine. From what Byleth said of Sothis, she was childlike in appearance, and had flowing and curled green hair. Linhardt oft wondered how much her soul affected his body. His hair had started to curl and become quite fluffy in recent years, unlike before; he also didn’t seem to be aging much, though all of them were still young. Byleth was Byleth, and Linhardt loved him, no matter how his hair changed or whether he aged normally or not.

Linhardt realized he was staring. His mind had a penchant for wandering as it was, when he was exhausted like this though? One thought dissolved into another, just as quickly as waves crashed to the beach. The sand would be smoothed over and over, waves moving back and forth, knew thoughts coming to tide and back out to sea. And it was so easy to get lost staring at Byleth.

Breaking from his metacognition, Linhardt walked forward, and gently wrapped his arms around Byleth’s waist.

“I was wondering how long you were going to just stare. When was the last time you slept?”

Byleth didn’t move out of Linhardt’s embrace, but didn’t return it either, continuing to whisk whatever was in the bowl in his arms. 

Linhardt didn’t answer, instead asking his own question, “What about you? How many loaves have you made?”

Byleth stopped stirring. “I delivered twenty to the dining staff earlier. I’ve made seven since then.” 

Linhardt dug his face into Byleth’s shoulder and began to massage his husband’s exposed stomach. The window was useful for this at least, skin on skin, unhindered by clothes. Touch was something he used to hate. Now it was another thing that he had grown accustomed to with Byleth and even grown to enjoy. 

Byleth stopped stirring the batter. He sighed and gently unclasped Linhardt’s hands and turned to face him, bringing him into a proper embrace. The bowl of batter fell to the counter, contents sloshing out and all over the place. No one had the energy to care. Linhardt smelled Byleth in, bread. Bread filled his nostrils. There were worse things to smell like, he did find it fairly humorous though. 

The two stood in their kitchen, cut off from the world, for a lovely moment. Their green hair tangled around each other, their breath became one, their heartbeats synchronized. They found a modicum of peace. All was well. 

Then there was the sound of footsteps. It grew louder and louder. Footsteps sounded up their stairs. 

Byleth only had time to sigh before a knight burst onto their floor.

“Archbishop Byleth! We have received word from his Majesty!”

Byleth scrunched his face. “Lin, we better go call the Synod. I’m sure whatever is in this letter is going to be something important.”

Linhardt groaned in disapproval but was already walking towards the exit. He snatched the letter from the knight’s hand and shooed him away, out of their house, back to his duties. 

“Let’s get this over with so I can sleep.”

\-----

_Byleth, Archbishop of the Church of Seiros,_

_You hold within the walls of your venerable monastery traitors to the Emperor. The Emperor demands their immediate return so they may be brought to swift and righteous justice. Return them or the Emperor shall raise his armies against you. The provinces of Fraldarius, Gautier, and Gaspard are already under siege, the blood rests in your hands now. Do not think the Emperor so weak as to allow this to stand. If you do not return them within the week, there will be_ war.

- _Myson Agara, Minister of War_

The room was silent. The declaration sat like a stone in Byleth’s stomach, all eyes turned to him. Mercedes looked worried, Jeritza wore the same blank stare he always wore, Linhardt clutched his head in pain, Rhea looked angry- as though she were about ready to transform into her dragon form and fly off to burn Fhirdiad to the ground. Flayn stared at her clenched hands, seemingly in prayer. Seteth merely looked stunned. How was he, the Archbishop to respond? He steeled his nerves.

“Send out letters to every noble in the land, I’m calling a summit here in Garreg Mach. Invite the _king and queen_ as well, he would be insane to refuse a chance at peaceful negotiation.”

Rhea huffed, “It seems he’s already well past the point of any sanity at all. How dare he, after everything you did to put him where he is.” Rhea’s eyes flared green, bright and angry, and if Byleth looked, he swore her nails were growing longer into talons.

“Strategically, this must be the dumbest thing he’s ever done. He helped restore the Church of Seiros and now goes back to destroy it! The nobles and peasantry will never join him, especially when so many houses are already in open rebellion.” Seteth’s words were true, and Byleth knew Dimitri was no fool. Which begged the question of why? _Why was_ Dimitri doing this?

“He did go pretty crazy during the war.” Lin chimed in, still clutching his head. 

Yet, from what Byleth had heard from Ashe in their short conversations, Dimitri wasn’t feral. He seemed distant and reserved, completely unlike his five year transformation. No, that wasn’t the answer. But Byleth didn’t have a clue what it could be other than that.

“When are you holding the summit? I doubt very highly he was expecting you to return Ashe, Felix, and Ingrid, otherwise he would have given you a lot more time.” Mercedes spoke calmly, she was always a steady head and firm foundation that Byleth could rely upon.

“Two weeks from now, the 26th, just a few days before the next moon turns. We need to prepare the monastery to host a large procession. Rally the teachers, students, knights, and anyone you can to work.”

“I will… rally the knights and call them back to the monastery in case things go sideways. If the summit fails, we will need to be prepared for war.” Seteth sighed and stood up.

Flayn didn’t move, instead clasping her hands harder.

“Flayn, let’s go, we need to be ready.” 

When Flayn stood up, small drops of blood fell from her hands, her finger nails had dug deep into her palms. Byleth had never seen her so worried and upset, even when the first war broke out.

“Wait, I have one more thing to discuss.” Mercedes interjected before anyone could leave. “I’ve been in contact with Dedue.”

The two immediately sat back down, interested at the revelation. “Well, tell us what he says, he’s the one closest to Dimitri.” Seteth leaned back, arms crossed and brow creased.

“Well… He’s been asking me about magic. Particularly… the kind used for mind control.”

“He… wants to know about mind control magic?” Rhea seemed taken aback. “That kind of magic hasn’t been around for centuries, I personally saw to the destruction of spells that had large potential to harm humanity. No one should have access to that kind of power.”

“I certainly didn’t know of any mind control spells, black, white, or dark. I told him that but… he seems to believe that Dimitri and Marianne are under a spell or a curse, he can’t think of any other reason for them to be acting like this. I haven’t found anything in any books though and now I know that magic of that caliber has simply been lost.” 

“Nemesis… he used magic like that to enslave people, I made sure no one would use it again, not me, not humans, not anyone else. I highly doubt that that’s the cause… if it is..." Rhea trailed off, a worried expression on her youthful visage though her eyes showed the wisdom of the ages.

“Well. I’ll relay that it’s doubtful, we have a secret messenger undercover as a gardener. I’ve been talking to him for a few months, ever since he started to notice Dimitri and Marianne change. In fact, I just received this journal, detailing what he’s observed, he became afraid that they would find it in his room and sent it here for safe keeping… and to give us a fair warning of what we are dealing with.”

Mercedes laid the book on the table. It was rather nice journal, leather bound, with a strap to keep it closed, many bookmarks were sticking out between the pages.

“Rhea, would you read that and tell us what you think? You have first hand experience with mind control. If it IS that, you would be best able to tell. Take your time reading it, the summit is in two weeks. Thank you for the information Mercedes. Other than that, everyone is dismissed, we have lots to prepare for.” 

The synod convened and everyone left to attend to their jobs. Only Lin stayed behind. Actually, now that Byleth looked closer, Lin was asleep. His face was down in his arms and his breath had become slow and drawn out. Byleth couldn’t remember the exact moment Lin put his head down but he had the uncanny ability to fall asleep almost on command. That was good, considering the amount of hours he had already been awake.

Byleth indulged himself a moment, watching Linhardt sleep. _Cute._ Byleth couldn’t help but always think that when he saw Lin asleep somewhere. He loved to watch while Lin slept; his eyelashes were so long, his hair was so soft and fell beautifully into and around his features, his body relaxed while he slept, he looked so at ease. He was so beautiful; Goddess, how Byleth wished to fall asleep with him right now.

Byleth admired for a few moments before pulling himself out of his trance; he had work to do, Linhardt had more than earned some time to rest. Byleth left the room and closed the door, no one would bother Lin in there. The command room was now the room for Synod meetings and only his handpicked members were allowed.

Still, as he walked away, the growing sense of dread and unease grew. Mind control? Brainwashing? Rhea had all but admitted that was a possibility with magic, perhaps a single tome escaped her grasp and now Fodlan was suffering? It would explain the sudden change and the belligerence; but who would do it, and why? What did they have to gain?

All of these questions, and more plagued his thoughts.  
  
 _Sothis, what the hell is happening?_

But he heard no answer. She was gone, soul fused with his own, and beyond his reach. With a sigh, he returned to his office and prepared for the host of guests that he was surely about to receive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Byleth is wearing the Goddess outfit, yes I added a bellybutton hole and gave him long hair. He would rock the look and I like the idea of Sothis's soul having an actual affect on his physical body- his hair should be wavy and long. Also, I feel like Byleth would bake when worried, he would certainly have some experience cooking- with all those meals he shared with all those students. 
> 
> Poor residents of the monastery, no one knows what's going on with Dimitri and Marianne~ next week there will be yet more unveiled, as well as the addition of another character, because I'm crazy.
> 
> I ended up plotting out a fair amount of the rest of the story, minus the last few chapters since I haven't finished decided exactly how the story will end- currently there are 23 chapters in total planned, there might be a few more or less by the end, I'll update the chapter count when I've completed all the outlines. 
> 
> I saw the fic exceeded 1000 hits and I just wanted to thank you all for reading! I'm having a great time writing and hope you continue to enjoy!
> 
> Smut chapter is coming soon, these characters need some relaxation.


	9. Nightmares and Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand struggles through yet another long and horrid night of nightmares and restlessness before a letter arrives in the dead of night, calling him forth once more. Evil takes root in Castle Fhirdiad, spreading its roots far and wide over Fodlan, plotting. Dedue is visited by a ghost of his past and just may gain a lead on what's happened to the royals he loves so much.

Ferdinand’s sleep was restless and plagued by death, as it always was.

Even now, so many years later… he still had nightmares.

~~~~~

The wind blew in Ferdinand’s face, hot and smoky. He rode, furiously fast, forward, ever forward. Gronder was hell. Edelgard’s black mages burned the plains and forests, Claude’s forces rained arrows everywhere and Dimitri fought like a demon, lance cleaving soldiers in two, stabbing others, bringing death. 

In all the confusion, he became lost, and to his horror, found himself behind enemy lines, far overextended. His life was in danger, any of Edelgard’s soldiers or mages could find him at any moment and snipe him down. Thankfully, he had found an alcove of trees to ride through, hoping to not be spotted until he could regroup with the kingdom forces.

His side hurt, Rapheal had bludgeoned him earlier before being felled by his lance. He felt awful about it, Rapheal was a good man, a kind person, but it was kill or be killed here. Ignatz had screamed and charged him before swiftly being felled by arrows from his battalion. Claude had seen it from on high… but was shot down as he dove for him. He was spared Claude’s righteous anger, but now he wondered if he was being punished for his actions today.

War was hell. He knew he would never forgive himself for ending their lives, even if it was to save his own.

He rode furiously, pushing his horse to the limit, trees rushed past, the hues of green a blur in his vision. As he rode, he heard it. There was a faint call, almost a whisper. The words got louder as he rode. _Shit._ He was about to be found and possibly killed, here, behind the Adrestian lines. Had he stayed with Edelgard, he would have been fighting with them rather than fleeing them.

His horse dashed past, and he saw a blur of red in the green. 

He recognized that red, and the purple laying atop her. He slowed, before coming to a horrified stop.

He saw their faces now. Bernadetta… such a sweet person, now lay still. Her head rested gently on Dorothea’s lap, lifeless eyes closed, breath silent. Ferdinand felt like vomiting, even from here... it was clear that Bernadetta was gone. The pool of blood and large hole in her chest were testament to the horrible truth. The horror only became worse as his attention moved to Dorothea.

Dorothea was always so beautiful and kind, someone he felt at ease around even though she seemed to dislike him. Now… she was unrecognizable. The fireball that ravaged her body left half of her face burned and blackened. A majority of her body was singed, clothes burned and fused into her skin, black carbon and ash coated her. She ran an idle hand through Bernadetta’s purple locks.

“Ferdie… hey.” She had said it so casually, so simply. She said it like nothing had changed, like they were still academy mates and not fighting each other to the death. She said hello to him like Bernadetta hadn’t already left this world clutching her. Her voice was hoarse, dry, pained.

“Dorothea… I…” He dismounted and ran to her, desperate to save her. “I’ll find a healer. Mercedes or Marianne… Byleth, someone will be near! Someone can… save you.” The tears began streaming even as he said it. 

“You know… You’re a good person Ferdie.” Her scarred and burned face softened it’s expression as she smiled. “I don’t hate you.”

“Dorothea, save your energy, I’ll give you some of my concoction. I will… I’ll save you. Please, be patient.” 

“She was always so sweet Ferdie. Bernie was a precious girl.” Dorothea’s eyes began to leak sporadically, damaged from the fire that had engulfed her. “She somehow crawled to me, bleeding so badly. You know Ferdie… I… I loved her. I really really loved her.” 

Dorothea grabbed his cape. Her fingers were peeling, skin mostly gone. She didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t hate you Ferdie. You did what you thought was right. That’s ok. You know, I always thought of you as a friend, even when you annoyed me.” 

Ferdinand sat still, looking to Dorothea. He listened to her words. 

“I… don’t hate you. We all… We all killed today.” 

“Dorothea, I have to go. I have to find someone! I… I have to.” He was already sobbing, pleading with her to release him.

“Ferdinand.” It was one of the only times he had heard her say his name. “Ferdinand. I’m not going to survive. I… I need to ask you something. Two things actually.”

“Dorothea, please… no.”

“You have to tell him Ferdinand. You have to. Bernadetta only heard me say it as she died, don’t… don’t be like me. Tell him. When next you see him. Promise me.”

“I… I promise.” 

Dorothea seemed to relax a little, encouraged to hear him concede so fast.

“Ferdinand. I… I told her to wait for me… I told her I would hold her hand as we crossed over. She’s… She’s waiting. She’s waiting for me Ferdinand. I’m hurting. There’s so much pain. I’m dying today. I want to hold her hand. I want to walk over with her. So… please.”

“No. no. Please don’t. Don’t ask this.”

“Ferdinand. Please kill me.”

~~~~~

Ferdinand shot up, and he screamed. 

He screamed till his voice was raw and his heart felt like it would explode. His head began to pound as the sobs and cries rocked through his body. The screams couldn’t silence her plea, nor would they ever bring her back. Eventually, there was no more air in his lungs to yell and he took a pained breath. The tears began to flow again, his chest heaved, everything was wrong. He had killed so many in that war, so many. Dorothea’s was the death that still haunted him, he had killed her. She had asked him to of course, and it was a mercy, but even now, he could not forget.

“Please… Smile Ferdinand, it always made me happy. I want the last thing I see to be your smile.”

He had obeyed. He smiled. He drove his lance through her heart. She barely flinched, staring at him, smiling as the tears and sobs burned through his body. 

“Thank you. You’re... you're a good man Ferdinand Von Aegir.” Her face relaxed, pain evaporating with her waning life force. A gentle smile graced her lips, and her eyes shut for the last time. 

She died. And Ferdinand screamed. He screamed then, much like he did now.

The difference was what happened after he cried. 

No one came to console him now. No one in this house knew him or cared about him. He would cry himself silent and eventually slip back into sleep, ill prepared to face more nightmares. In the morning he would go back to work, as he always did.

At Gronder, Hubert heard his cries. Hubert lunged at him, poised to strike. The attack never landed.

“Hubert… They’re gone.”

“What are you doing here Ferdinand?”

“They’re gone.” He cried and Hubert watched. “I killed her Hubert.

When Ferdinand closed the distance and grabbed Hubert, holding him for dear life, sobbing into his shoulder, Hubert did not run. Hubert didn’t push him away. Hubert stood there as Ferdinand held him, it was perhaps the greatest kindness he had ever given Ferdinand.

“Hubert… I love you. I promised her. I promised I would tell you when I next saw you. Now my promise is kept. I love you, I have for a long time.”

“I know.” 

Ferdinand expected the dagger. He knew Hubert would strike, he had to, for Edelgard. Ferdinand was his enemy now, he would strike. What Ferdinand didn’t expect was for Hubert to drop a vulnary and walk off, having missed every major organ. 

“You’re a fool Ferdinand. But so am I. Despite my personal feelings for you, next we meet… I will kill you.”

He walked away, demeanor sad, as Ferdinand’s consciousness began to fade. 

There was no Hubert to stab him, console him, or kiss him in this cold and uncaring mansion. Hubert was dead. Dedue’s axe had sunk deep into his flesh during his desperate defense of the castle in Enbarr. Ferdinand saw as he fell, Hubert seemed to smile, and mouthed something before his head hit the pavement and the blood pooled around him. Ferdinand would give anything to know what Hubert mouthed to him then.

He finally managed to slow his breathing, and the tears ceased to flow. As expected, no one came to his room to console him. His family was dead. Hubert was dead. His friends were scattered across the world, far from him. 

Ferdinand was well and truly alone.

He rubbed his bare chest, toned and perfect save for one imperfection. There was the scar, so small and simple, not but two inches across, the proof that Hubert loved him. He loved this scar, even if everything else in the world was wrong.

He hadn’t married. He hadn’t dated. He had barely seen any of his allies or friends since the end of the war. When Dimitri’s viceroyalty system was in place… perhaps he would simply disappear, wander the world, find a new purpose. He could of course move to Brigid or Almyra. Caspar and Sylvain were good friends of his, but it didn’t seem right. They had people who loved them, and Ferdinand didn’t think he could live near them without feeling jealous and lonelier still. He also couldn’t bear to look at Claude, knowing he had personally ended two of the people Claude cared about. He could stay… become a viceroy… serve Fodlan, abysmal prospects. Once the new system was done, he was determined to be finished with his noble duties. Someone else could take this mantle when the work to set it up was completed, Ferdinand Von Aegir had nothing left to give the people of Fodlan, he had sacrificed enough.

Ferdinand laid back, tears had surely stained his face red, his head hurt, his soul was broken, he hated, but he wasn’t sure what, maybe himself. He wondered if he was even capable of the same smile that saw Dorothea off to the next world... he doubted it.

As darkness threatened to drag him back into the realm of nightmares, he heard a loud knock on his door. Strange, none of his servants cared about him. But the knocking became frantic, “Lord Aegir! News from the Archbishop!”

Ferdinand crawled out of bed and walked to the door. He was in the nude, and probably should have thrown a robe on, but he didn’t care. The messenger didn’t seem to notice, too wound up from receiving a letter from the Archbishop. Ferdinand dismissed him back to his duties and walked over to his small personal desk where he lit the small lantern. He didn’t know the hour, but it was probably late, guessing by the position of the moon which he could see through the grand windows of his large master bedroom.

Ferdinand sat at his desk and opened the letter.

His eyes scanned the letter, each word bringing more dread to his heart. A summit was being held, the king was going crazy, Lords were raising armies and preparing for war. He was expected to be in attendance as Grand Duke of Southern Adrestia. 

Ferdinand pulled his hair up in a ribbon and started to throw on clothes. He wasn’t going to be getting anymore sleep tonight. In the morning, he would have no choice but to set off for the monastery once again.

~~~~~

“Your Majesty, I have word from the Archbishop.”

Dimitri cocked an eyebrow but reacted little more. “Out with it then. Is he going to release the traitors into my custody?” 

“No your Majesty, in fact, he is inviting all nobles of ducal rank or higher in the realm to a summit at the monastery. He intends to hold it on the twenty sixth day of this moon, he humbly asks you, Her Majesty the Queen, and Ser Dedue all be in attendance in hopes of averting conflict.”

The messenger seemed on edge, clearly unhappy at having been the one unlucky enough to deliver this news. It seemed that their attempt at sowing fear and respect in the castle was paying off, no one dared speak out against him any longer.

“You are dismissed.”

The messenger bowed low, practically prostrating himself before backing up a great many steps and turning to leave. 

“So… He ignored our ultimatum. I suppose that was to be expected.” Marianne spoke with a hint of satisfaction in her voice, happy their gambit had paid off. They had just cause for war now after all.

Dimitri turned to his wife, sitting on her throne beside his own. “He didn’t merely reject it, he made his own move to attempt to counter us. We are well feared here now but if we refuse to talk about peace and its doomed prospects then we will lose the support of the realm.”

Marianne rolled her eyes. “Does it matter? The only reason for the war is-”

“It matters. The hero of Daphnel and the Aegir boy will both side with the archbishop. The Almyran king as well. I’ve also heard reports of soldiers spotting the Brigid Queen flying through Fodlan. We need numbers to put up a fight. Victory and defeat may be of little consequence but we still have need of soldiers.”

“We have plans for Almyra… I anticipated Brigid’s involvement, I have a contingency in place to deal with them. So we attend the summit. Then what?”

“It’s all for show. We deny their accusations and deviate the talks towards war. We can tell the peasants and lords anything we want, our rank will sway the weaker minds to our side.” Dimitri smiled at his wife, gray eyes shining and lacking any kind intent. “Besides. I’ve received news.”

“Oh? I like the look in your eyes. Have we managed to sway the our special friends to our cause?”

“We have. They were easy enough, all they want is land and a boatload of gold, simple things to promise, especially when this is over and we simply slaughter them all. Still, they will make up for the loss of men we will face after this summit, it was a strategically sound move on their part, but we are a few steps ahead.”

“Hah, good. I knew sending them there was a good idea. Humans are such simple creatures, swayed by shiny objects and the promise of better land.” Marianne’s face contorted into a wicked smile, dark tendrils of magic leaking out of a tear in her perfectly constructed magical facade. With the twirl of a finger, the tear patched itself, restoring the Queen’s face to its serene and beautiful austerity. “When do we leave _darling?_ ”

“Tomorrow morning. We are, unfortunately, going to be forced to make the journey by carriage instead of magical means.” 

“I suppose we ought to head to bed then _dear._ So much travelling ahead of us.” Marianne stood, holding her hand out to Dimitri.

“Let’s. I hate wearing this all day anyway, we might as well enjoy an evening without.” Dimitri took his wife’s hand and allowed her to lead him to their new quarters, on the opposite side of the castle and that blasted knight how so stoically guarded them. Marianne wished that he had died when intended, now, Dedue was a constant thorn in their side, despite the fact he obeyed every order. No matter. _There were plans to fix that._

~~~~~

Dedue wandered the hallways, lacking vision of where to go. Recently, he had been all but sidelined, forced out of work on the council, knightly duties, even minor administerial positions. The king and queen seemed intent on making sure he did nothing but stew in this cold and uncaring castle. 

Originally… Dedue noticed only subtle changes, Marianne chose different tea for their morning tea time, Dimitri seemed more reserved than usual. Now, some months later, Duscur was all but forgotten by the man who promised he would restore it, Marianne did everything in her power to avoid him, and Dimitri was intent on making sure he had no decision making power in the Kingdom- Empire, despite being his most stalwart ally. 

Sadly, his secret communications with Mercedes produced no fruit. Mercedes didn’t have any information about mind control magic, and the letter he received recently said that Rhea had eradicated any tomes with magic she deemed too dangerous for human use anyway. He was well and truly sent back to the drawing board. It was still a possibility someone was controlling them but the probability was low. He absolutely refused to believe that they were doing this of their own accord, yet, what other explanations were there? 

Tomorrow... They set out for the monastery. Dedue was at a loss for what to do. He swore his life to Dimitri, he loved Dimitri, he loved Marianne too. He wanted desperately to save them from whatever had clamped down on their minds and turned them into different people. But what if he _couldn’t?_ What if this was simply out of his purview and he was only going to end up abetting them in dragging the continent back to _war?_

Dedue felt the familiar pain behind his eye, the torches lining the stone walls shone far brighter than they ought, he was getting a migraine again. He had them so constantly these days that he scarcely remembered what it was like not to see burning auras around light and have a constant heartbeat in his head. Medicine was of little help, and Marianne, who used to heal him of any ailment, large or small, no longer even spoke to him. 

With a sigh, Dedue decided to retire to bed, despite the early hour. He was going to be travelling tomorrow anyway. 

The walk through the halls was lonely, none of his friends were here, having either escaped the castle or been possessed by something. Slowly, his room came into sight, the only inhabited room on this side of the castle since Dimitri moved his bedroom to the opposite side, purposefully away from Dedue. 

Dedue entered his room, ebony darkness soaked it through, blissfully dark, sparing his eyes and pounding head. Dedue sat at his desk and turned his lamp to a low flame, small enough to not agitate his aching head. He was about to grab a quill and get ready to journal before remembering that he had sent his journal to Mercedes. Dedue sighed, discontent and sadness heavy in his dark room.

“Victory certainly isn’t treating you very well is it? Unsurprising, no great loyalty goes unpunished. Not that it ever mattered for people like us.”

Dedue shot up, staring into the inky darkness retreating from the meager light of his desk lamp. His eyes had yet to adjust but slowly, a figure progressed to the edge the light, wraithlike in appearance. 

Dedue raised his fists, ready to attack, survival instinct kicked to beyond full gear, panic in his chest. An intruder had infiltrated his room, probably to kill him and further destabilize the kingdom. 

“Who are you? I’ll put you down with all haste if I so much as feel the hint of a lie.”

“Just a ghost. Nothing more.” The figure stepped entirely into the light of his desk, a mere few feet from Dedue. He wore a long black robe trailing down his legs, he was tall, and wore shoes that Dedue had never seen before, slim and almost entirely made of cloth. His hands were gloved, and a large hood covered his hair, a black cloth mask covered the lower parts of his face. His eyes were shrouded in the darkness cast by his oversized hood. The man certainly looked like a ghost.

“While I could be inclined to believe you are a ghost, I have never heard tale of one speaking. I repeat, who are you?”

“I’m going to remove my hood, don’t punch me to death.” The man raised his arms and threw his hood back. Beautiful waves of hair cascaded down his back and covered parts of his chest. With nothing to hide his eyes, Dedue immediately recognized the man even before he removed the cloth mask covering his mouth and nose. Only one person he ever met had eyes of that shining and catlike color.

“How? You are supposed to be…”

The man laughed, apparently finding the look on Dedue’s face humorous. “I told you. I am merely a ghost.” 

“Why? Why show yourself now? Why to me?”

“Simple. You’re going to die and that would be rather bad for my mission. I need you alive.”

“What?”

“How’s your head? It hurts doesn't it? Perhaps you have been feeling more drowsy of late?”

“How… how do you know that?”

“I’ve listened to the king and queen plot your demise. Arsenic. This room is coated in it, it’s inlaid in your desk, your chair, anything wooden has been treated with it, they feed it to you in your meals and the water you drink. Soon, your fingernails will discolor, and your heart will begin to fail. You’ll die.”

“I don’t believe you. I have no reason to.”

“Ensuring Fodlan was relieved of its true enemy was always my primary directive. Everything that happened seven years ago was to ensure the safety and security of the continent. The Church was only the first step; the final step was dislodging those who are now careening us towards war again.” 

Dedue had a hard time spotting a lie on his face, or in the tone of his voice. Even though he was a prolific liar, Dedue found the look in his eyes to be entirely serious. 

“Say I believe you. What now?”

“Now, they must be stopped. I need you for that.”

“Why?”

“You’re an intelligent man Dedue. Surely you’ve realized that those two are not the Marianne and Dimitri that you fought alongside? You’ve been serving impostors.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus enter Ferdinand, poor soul tortured by memories of death and war. I'm sorry Ferdie. It's quite hard writing character deaths, especially with such a big and lovable cast. Ferdinand had perhaps the worst time at Gronder, killing other students and his own old friend. My heart breaks for him and everyone lost, but the story goes on. Next week, some smut. Lot's of these chapters have been heavy with revelation upon revelation, so everyone has earned some time to just let loose, hope you look forward to it!


	10. Sex and Stew Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The residents of Garreg Mach prepare for the Summit as best they can, seeking time with loved ones, enjoying life to its fullest. No one knows how the summit will go, and Ashe is certainly not going to let it get his spirits down, especially when he feels a certain need upon finishing training with Felix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the calm, the storm is on its way.

Life in the monastery was quite similar to how it had been both two and seven years ago. Ashe went to the training grounds with Felix. They sparred, practiced archery, enjoyed each other’s company, and trained with the students of the academy. Everything felt familiar; as though they never left, as though the war never ended. With the eyes of a veteran, Ashe worried for the new students, especially his siblings. Most of them had faced some sort of hardship because of the war, none of them had fought in it though. Even despite the relative peace in this calm week before the summit, Ashe felt uneasy. 

Still, when they trained like this, ate dinner at their table in their house, and enjoyed a few days of peace, everything felt nice. The summit was in a few days, which only made Ashe enjoy it all the more. His siblings glued themselves to his hip, not that Ashe minded. He hadn’t seen them very often as of late, Jesper was almost eye level to him now, seventeen years old. He was a student here. Magnolia was twelve, and had lessons, but not at the Officer’s Academy proper. Ashe enjoyed listening to his little brother laugh and talk about his day. His eyes shone with happiness and joy. Magnolia always played with Ashe’s hair as they talked, and Ashe would braid hers in turn. He loved his siblings so much, and was relieved to know they were safe here. 

Both of his siblings idolized Felix. Jesper awed at his strength with a sword, and loved to train with him. Felix would never admit it, but he went just a bit easier on Jesper, pulling some punches, training him as best he could. Magnolia often cornered him and forced him to let her braid his hair; Felix always relented though this surprised Ashe. He always wondered what they whispered about while her fingers messed with his hair. Still, Ashe felt pure elation seeing his siblings get along so well with Felix. They were the three most important people in the world to him. 

Claude, Sylvain, Petra, and Caspar had already arrived at the monastery, each with their own ugly reasons to be here. Other lords from around the realm were inbound, Lysithea was coming despite her ailing health and Ferdinand sent a messenger ahead of him to announce he was on his way. Ashe didn’t want to think about it right now. He was going to enjoy this little bubble of bliss for a few more days until he would be dragged back into reality. 

The training grounds began to empty, class was about to resume in a few minutes. Ashe patted his brother on the head and bid him good studies as the boy smiled and ran off to class. He had healing lessons with Manuela next as he had taken quite strongly to white magic. His sister meanwhile already showed proficiency with dark magic; it was funny, Ashe was never good at either one, despite his best efforts.

Felix wiped his brow with a towel and smiled at Ashe, breaking him from his reverie.

“He’s getting better. He even landed a few blows today.”

“With you training him, it was only a matter of time.” Ashe smiled and walked towards Felix, leaving the pillar that he had been leaning against. 

Felix was glistening, sweaty from the exertion despite the chill in the air. No one would be coming to the training grounds for a few hours now that class had resumed. Ashe couldn’t help but stare as Felix stripped off his outer coat and wiped the back of his neck. The movement was so simple, nothing special- yet filled Ashe with desire he could not ignore. 

Felix stripped one more layer off, his exposed skin immediately turning a healthy pink when exposed to the cold. Felix’s shoulders were free of their constraints. Oh good heavens he was still wearing his boots, those damn things were too much for Ashe to handle.

Ashe closed in, slowly, with all the grace and dexterity of a cat. Felix reacted too sluggishly, and didn’t sense Ashe until he grabbed hold of him. Ashe wrapped his arms around Felix’s chest in one deft motion before smelling him in.

Felix was going to have to be careful when he trained with Ashe. For the past few days he had noticed Ashe watching him more intently when they finished training- now it seemed that he had decided to pounce. Felix attempted to struggle free, to no avail. Ashe’s arms were strong, his core was powerful, Felix was trapped and already Ashe’s hands were wandering. They grazed over his body- slowly and deliberately, brushing over a nipple, caressing his sides, tickling the skin near his collar bone. Felix felt Ashe’s hot breath on his neck, full of want. Ashe’s hands trailed lower, purposefully dodging the actual prize, instead massaging his inner thighs. 

Felix felt any protests fly out the window as Ashe slipped his hand down his pants and began to touch him, stroking his cock. It felt damn good; Ashe continued to touch there, wrapping his ever growing length in his hand, pumping it up and down. Felix was so focused on that sensation that the next one was a surprise, Ashe’s other hand wandered down his pants in a different region, spreading his cheeks slightly, rubbing them, and groping his ass. 

Felix breathed a whisper, “Against the pillar?”

“Against the pillar.”

“Like old times?”

“Like old times.”

Ashe retracted his wandering hands; Felix grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him in a run towards their favorite pillar. Needless to say, this wasn’t the first time one or both of them bad been left with urgent desire after a round of sparring, usually they waited until they could return to the dorms but… sometimes that simply wasn’t an option. So they had their pillar, off in the corner, hidden away, somewhere they could do this and hopefully not be seen. They had a few close calls before but were never caught.

Now they retreated there again. No longer were they horny teens, but it felt like it, they hadn’t managed to find time alone since they left the manor, and Felix knew he was getting antsy, often awakening in the morning with an uncomfortable bulge. Felix enjoyed their little house and the company of Ashe’s siblings but they were always present and Felix missed having Ashe to himself. 

They reached the pillar, and Felix found out just how antsy Ashe had been too. His face was a bright red, and he was already stripping out of his upper layers, casting his coat and shirt aside nearby. Felix didn’t have a moment to admire the hard lines of Ashe’s lean body before Ashe crashed against him like a wave, filing his mouth with love and lust, hot breath and wet saliva dripping everywhere in the wake of his messy kiss. Felix’s head rested against the pillar as Ashe’s tongue invaded his mouth, searching around, licking inside, overwhelming him. Somehow, Ashe found time to scrunch the bottom of Felix’s shirt in his fists and heave it upwards, over his head, with grace, before throwing it aside. His glasses flew off with the shirt, and for once, Ashe let them go, seemingly too focused on the rest of Felix to miss one of his favorite things. His mouth was instantly back on Felix’s, as one hand wrapped around his waist, and pulled him closer. Felix tossed his arms around Ashe’s neck, enjoying the warmth that came from the closeness of their bare chests, and the heat of Ashe’s breath. Cold winters had nothing on Ashe, he could melt them all away.

They kissed, hot and needy for a few moments before Felix felt Ashe’s deft fingers fiddling with his belt and the button of his pants. Felix lowered his arms and found the buckle of Ashe’s pants too. Felix’s erection was visible through a rather pronounced tent in his pants- he was already desperate for it to be let free, into the air. Ashe made quick work of it, and pulled the pants down to his thighs before yanking his underwear free. Felix moaned into Ashe’s mouth, happy to be done with the constraints as he finally managed to undo Ashe’s buckle too. Ashe’s cock sprang out, knocking against his dick joyfully. Felix moved in closer and grabbed their dicks, holding them in his hand as he continued to kiss Ashe. 

“Mmm” Ashe mumbled around the kiss. Felix let his tongue go so Ashe could speak. “What do you want to do?” Ashe’s face was red, and his face was serious. His eyes glinted with joy that melted Felix’s heart. 

To be honest, Felix wanted to do more things than they had time for; he wished classes would last for much longer, or that Ashe’s siblings would stay in the dorm for a night. He knew neither would happen, they had this moment together and he would make the most of it. Felix took hold of Ashe’s hand and gently led it behind him, and to his backside, where he craved for Ashe’s warmth inside. Ashe didn’t say a word, instead kissed Felix again, before turning him around and leaning him against the pillar.

Felix felt exposed with his ass sticking out towards Ashe like this but goddess did he love the feeling as Ashe began to massage him. The pillar was cold against his hands but the finger that slipped inside was all heat, all wonderful and delicious heat. Ashe moved quickly, inserting a second saliva coated finger giving just enough time for Felix to grow used to the first. The pressure inside was exquisite, and as Ashe curled his fingers, Felix swore and clutched the pillar harder. Ashe rubbed, again and again, pushing Felix towards sweet oblivion, yet never enough to do anything but make him grow more erect. A third finger slipped in and Felix felt himself begin to stretch as Ashe scissored around, pushing into his prostate, making him moan quietly, so as not to alert any passers-by. Ashe continued his fingering, stretching, and began to gently thrust, filling Felix with such a sweet feeling. Ashe bent down, over Felix, and whispered with a haze filled voice.

“How do you want it?” Ashe withdrew his fingers and the emptiness could make Felix cry, if not for the fact that the emptiness was a promise of something far better inside.

Felix turned around, and rested his back against the smooth pillar before holding out his arms and gesturing Ashe step forward. Ashe’s eyes went wide, they had only tried this once, and it had been… less than successful. Yet, Ashe did as commanded and walked forward. Felix eyed him hungrily as Ashe grabbed hold of his thighs, and lifted him into the air. Felix wrapped his legs around Ashe, holding tightly, and threw his arms around his neck once more, for support. 

“Are… are you sure?” Felix knew Ashe was worried; the last time they tried this, Ashe had fallen over after his orgasm and the two had walked away bruised, despite the fantastic time it had been. 

“I’m sure. I trust you.” Felix smirked and pressed a kiss against Ashe’s lips again, gentle and sweet. 

Ashe returned the kiss, and enjoyed the sweet sounds that escaped Felix’s lips as his dick broke muscle and pressed inside. Felix thrust his tongue out, into Ashe’s mouth as Ashe thrust into him, eliciting the sweetest sigh. 

Felix’s legs- still wearing those boots, clenched around his waist and Felix’s mouth hung open as Ashe began to bounce his suspended body onto him. Felix’s erection had nowhere to go but up, sandwiched between their chests and rubbing so sweetly. Gentle slapping sounds echoed in the training grounds before dispersing into the open air above and teetering into nothing. 

Felix watched with amazement as Ashe held him aloft and fucked him. Ashe was so… beautiful. His face was determined yet so serene and full of love as he worked his body to keep Felix up. The muscles in his strong arms contracted with each movement, with each burst of pleasure inside as Ashe reached deeper into him. Light sweat began to bead on his forehead and chest, slowly trickling down, bursts of cold against the heat of their bodies. Felix’s head spun with the pleasure inside, and the pressure surrounding his dick. He kissed Ashe now, light moans escaping into Ashe’s mouth instead of the air around them. Felix dug his fingers into Ashe’s back, it was so hard, so strong; he was all lithe and lean muscle, entirely different from the soft skin and bony body so many years ago. He was sweet and kind, yet strong enough to hold him aloft and pound him. He had eyes so bright and smiles so full of sunshine, yet that face held mischief and desire so deep and all consuming. 

Felix didn’t mind being consumed, so long as it was Ashe.

Ashe felt Felix’s arms trailing around his back, and noticed the look of pleasure that washed over Felix’s face. He was smiling, a rare sight, as he squirmed in Ashe’s arms, making it hard to hold him, but pushing him ever deeper. Felix’s voice could only be stopped from escaping when Ashe’s tongue was exploring his mouth. A powerful movement had Felix cuss loudly, and Ashe pressed there, harder, faster, and more lovingly. Felix dug his fingers into Ashe’s back, nails threatening to break skin as Ashe pounded him ever closer to his climax. 

“Jesper?”

Ashe’s eyes went wide. So did Felix’s. 

“Jesper, are you in here?”

 _Manuela._ Shit. Manuela was looking for Jesper, why hadn’t he gone to his class? Why did she have to come searching now?

“Jesper, we had advanced magic lessons todayyyyy.” She dragged out her syllables, as though calling for a lost puppy, and not his brother. “I was going to teach you how to warp today!” 

Ashe slowed his pace, yet didn't stop, despite the protest in Felix’s eyes. Ashe let go of one of Felix’s legs, trusting him to hold on, and covered Felix’s mouth, as he more quietly thrust into him. Felix looked mad but his eyes rolled back with each movement, his will to resist already fully capitulated to the burning desire ravaging his body. 

“Hmph. Where in the world did he go… Hmmmmm.”

Ashe couldn’t see Manuela from here, yet, if they were going to get caught, he figured he would only die of slight embarrassment; Manuela was one of the people who would likely mutter an “oh my” before shooting a grin and swiftly leaving, far preferable to being caught by… Seteth, or Rhea.

“Manuela? Jesper forgot his book and had to go grab it, he will be in class shortly.”

Mercedes’s voice rang out through the training ground calling after their former professor, always blessed with tremendously horrible timing. 

“Ah! Well that explains it. Thank you for telling me.”

Ashe heard her footsteps echo through the hall before fading completely.

The two remained silent, only soft smacking in the air as they waited and made sure both of them were gone. Finally, Felix spoke.

“Thank the Goddess she’s gone, I thought she would never leave.” Felix looked annoyed and as he brushed his bangs back with his hand. Ashe could resist no longer the desire burning through his being. Felix’s face was flushed, his hair coming undone from its perfect tail, his look was hazy and his breath escaped in pants. 

Ashe had no words to share and pulled Felix away from the wall before lifting him high and pulling him down, onto his dick, deep inside. Felix wasn’t prepared for the sensation; his breath hitched as his body shook. Electricity jolted through him as Ashe used all the accuracy of a trained archer to hit his target, over and over again. “Fuck… Ashe.” 

He obeyed, and repeated the motion, bouncing him high and thrusting hard into him, grazing past all the right places and bringing Felix to the brink. Ashe's orgasm was close, threatening to release with each movement inside Felix. Felix clutched Ashe closer, resting his head against Ashe’s shoulder.

Felix moaned and panted holding onto Ashe for dear life, “Fuck Ashe, do it again.” And he obeyed. Felix melted so sweetly into Ashe’s arms, holding tight and gently moaning. Only Ashe was allowed this Felix, his rough exterior melted away only for Ashe. 

The tightness around Ashe’s dick was overwhelming, yet, only got more fantastic when Felix orgasmed, cum spewing onto their chests. Ashe thrust into him harder, faster, chasing after that sweet release and felt himself tip over the edge moaning and holding Felix close as he reached his end. Ashe slowed his movements, nuzzling against Felix as the last vestiges of pleasure passed through his body. 

He panted, feeling sated for the first time in weeks, daring not to move and fall over again like last time they attempted this all those years ago. He found Felix’s mouth once again and kissed him, sweet love humming through his body. The pent up tension finally released in the only way he wished it, with the man he loved.

Ashe slowly lifted Felix up, and off of his dick, Felix let his legs unwind from Ashe’s waist, and Ashe placed him back on the ground, standing up.The two immediately fell down to sit on the cold ground, tired from the workout, breathless, satisfied. Felix closed his eyes, breathing in the cold air, enjoying the buzz in his body before speaking.

“Why… is it always Manuela?” 

Ashe began to laugh, remembering that Manuela had almost found them a few times before, when the dorms were simply too far away.

“It’s as though she has a sixth sense for this stuff, I prefer her to Seteth, or Rhea, or someone scary at least.” 

Felix smiled, and pulled his knees to his chest, slow stream of mess escaping his backside, and running to the floor. He rested his chin on his knees, and looked to Ashe, contented expression on his face. The expression was so unlike his normal look, soft, peaceful, adoring; Ashe could get drunk off that look. 

Ashe crawled over to Felix, and kissed him once more, as his fingers trailed low and stretched him out, dragging as much mess away from his ass when there were no towels or water nearby. Felix eased into the kiss, happy chills running over his body. 

“I guess… I guess we should be heading back.” Ashe stated, having done his best to clean his partner.

“Classes are finishing up soon, but we could…” 

Ashe smiled, his siblings wouldn’t be home for a while, surely… there was time for some extra alone time. 

The two dressed quickly, Ashe was sure he looked like a ruffled mess, hopefully people would only think they had been training. Their house felt far, in the knight’s district on the other side of the monastery. Each step felt like a million as he walked with Felix. Felix looked hungry, and his cheeks were slightly tinted, whether from the glow of their love or the promise of more to come, Ashe wasn’t sure.

Finally, their little house came into view and Ashe burst into a run, fumbling the keys and throwing the front door open. Felix jogged after him, and pulled Ashe into a kiss as the door slammed shut behind him. Felix loved Ashe’s siblings, but he hoped they would take their time coming home today.

~~~~~

Caspar felt exceptionally cold. He supposed it was his own fault for only bringing clothes of Brigid to wear but he simply couldn’t get back into the idea of wearing Fodlan styles. His body was freer, and more comfortable like this; he would just have to power through the slight chill, Petra seemed mostly fine in her light clothes, he wouldn’t complain either.

Still, it only got worse at night, hopefully the dining hall would be warm. All of the members of the old Blue Lions house were meeting for a night of festivities and fun tonight- some time to enjoy themselves in case things went sideways at the summit in a few days. Caspar was happy, Lin and Ashe were here, his best friends other than Petra. 

Caspar entered the hall full of his old friends with Petra beside him. Ashe and Byleth stood at the end of the room cooking together, chatting and laughing with Manuela who was drinking something from a glass. Felix and Ingrid were being tortured by Sylvain and Claude’s flirting while Mercedes instigated them further as discreetly as she could. Hanneman and Lin were deep in conversation, likely about crests if Caspar had to guess. Many of their friends were missing, still travelling here. When they all met like this, it was hard to ignore the faces he would never see again: Annette, Raphael, Ignatz, Dorothea, Bernadetta, Leonie. Of course… there was Edelgard and Hubert too, it was easy for some to forget them and classify them as the instigators of the war but their deaths hurt Caspar too, two more people he couldn’t save.

Caspar felt a squeeze around his hand. In fact, that hurt, that really hurt, “Ow!”

“Sorry Caspar, no bad thinking tonight. We are here for fun.” Petra flashed a rather radiant smile at him and Caspar felt the light melancholy that was settling over him begin to lift.

“Yeah. You’re right.” It was funny how she could tell when his mind wandered to less than happy places without even looking at his face.

Petra held firm and pulled him into the room. “Hello everyone! We are here for the festivities!” 

“Caspar!” Ashe ran up to him, leaving the soup on the stove in Byleth’s hands. Ashe wrapped him in a hug. “I haven’t seen you since you arrived! I’m glad you two had a safe journey.” Ashe pulled Petra into an embrace too, “I’ve missed you both so much.”

“It has been a long while already. You would not have been seeing us until our wedding either. I still wish it was happier circumstances to visit though.”

“I wish too. But, that doesn’t matter tonight. Tonight is for fun! Take a seat- dinner is almost ready, there are drinks on the table.”

Petra pulled him along and the two sat down beside Felix, looking mighty irritated at Sylvain across the table.

“Shut up Sylvain, no one cares.”

“Don’t be jealous. You and Ashe should have tied the knot ages ago already, you might as well do it before all this ugliness begins, the Prof-Bishop is right there you know.”

Felix turned a light shade of pink, “That’s our business idiot, go be blissful somewhere else!”

“Don’t worry, he’s always blissful.” Claude winked at Felix and Caspar swore that Felix would explode. 

“I don’t doubt it, I’m surprised you can put up with him.”

“Hey… you and Ashe wanna… again?” Sylvain bounced his eyebrows a few times with a smirk on his face.

“SYLVAIN. So help me I will tear you apart.”

“Do what again?” Mercedes asked innocently wearing a smile that held so much hidden knowledge.

“Oh, well, you se-” Felix reached over the table and silenced Sylvain’s mouth with his hand. 

“Not. A. Word.” 

Sylvain licked his hand. Felix stoically left his hand there, covering Sylvain’s face, ensuring he would stay silent.

“We just had a bit of fun on Fodlan day.” Claude chimed in, giving Felix a wink. “Speaking of weddings, when are you two due to marry?”

“Well… it was planned for next moon but it may need to be put away for now.” Petra said it casually but Caspar could tell she was a bit saddened at the prospect of putting it off. “There isn’t anything to be done, we are needed again.”

“Afain, fe frof shop frigh fere.” 

“I… did not quite catch that, Felix, would you release Sylvain?”

Felix eyed him with a piercing gaze, _just try it_ , he seemed to say, but released his mouth. Sylain smirked at him but continued, “I said: the Prof-Bishop is right there- cooking and baking, he could marry you before the summit.”

“No… my family is not here, I would want them to see the wedding. Grandfather especially should see it. He is healthy and I do not worry, but he enters his ninth decade in a few years and I love him dearly and want him to perform the rites of marriage.”

“Well, I suppose that makes sense.” 

“Also, _Sylvain,_ how dare you get married without any of us there! I did not put up with all of your teenage bullshit to NOT WITNESS the day you FINALLY settle down you _asshole_.” Ingrid glared daggers and slammed her hands on the table.

“Hey! No time like the present! We were afraid we would get ambushed or something and when we saw columns of troops advancing on Garreg Mach we thought we were gonners for sure. I was happy to know they were the armies of Felix and Ashe but still! I would say our wedding was aptly timed.” 

“Hmph. Insufferable as always. But, I’m sure your old man is turning in his grave, so good on that at least.” 

“He totally is, I would say I would love to see his face but… really I’m glad I don’t have to.” It was unfortunate but true, the late Lord Gautier had few friends and most of them had already passed. Even Rodrigue and Lambert seemed to keep him at a fair distance when they yet lived due to how extreme he seemed to be.

“Dinner is ready.” Byleth spoke up at the head of the long table with a basket of freshly baked rolls, Ashe stood behind him with a huge pot of soup. Behind them on the counter was an array of other dishes, sweet buns, rabbit skewers, vegetable pasta salad, and some peach sorbet for dessert. The pot smelled divine, Daphnel stew, a crowd favorite. 

Manuela, Byleth, and Ashe deposited the dishes on the table and everyone began passing them around, taking portions for themselves. 

“I’ve got drinkssss~” Manuela reached behind the counter and pulled out two large bottles of what Caspar assumed were wine. She brought them over to the table. “We’re missing some people but class reunions are supposed to be fun, so enjoy tonight. No talking about ugly things, only good things.”

Sylvain immediately grabbed a bottle and began pouring for the table, “Remember what happened last time we drank at a party?”

A look of something Caspar couldn’t discern flashed over Ashe’s features before he responded, simply, “I remember.”

Caspar really had to wonder just what had happened on Fodlan day that he missed out on.

“Just kiss already.” The table turned and stared and Linhardt. “What? You were all thinking it.” Lin took a bite of his stew and relaxed against the back of his chair. “I’m just the only one who would say it.”

“That could be arranged if Ashe wanted it.” Sylvain winked, Ashe turned red, Felix looked about ready to explode and everyone else began to laugh. 

“Are you just going to let your husband do that?” Felix eyed Claude down.

“Hey, I would kiss him too, Ashe is a handsome man and a sweet person. Besides… I own Sylvain’s heart and that’s all that matters.” Claude reached over held Sylvain’s hand, love in his eyes. 

Sylvain’s gaze turned away from Ashe to Claude and he leaned in to kiss him. 

“Now boys, I’m happy you’re happy, but _some_ of us don’t like being reminded of our single-ness. Get a room.” Manuela eyed them and took a rather large drink of her wine. 

“That is a perfectly solvable problem Manuela, if only you would listen to me.” Hanneman spoke up.

“Oh brother, let’s not do this again Hanneman, it never goes well.”

The table turned to their own individual conversations as their two old professors began again with their constant bickering.

“I’m genuinely surprised they haven’t gotten married. They bicker like they are, they always go back for more, they always find each other’s company when alone. I wish they would just do it so they could bicker at home instead of when I’m around.” Lin looked irritated. “I’m half convinced my headaches come from them instead of my weak eye.” 

“One day. I’ll be happy to marry them when they do.” Byleth ran his fingers through Linhardt’s hair, and leaned in to nuzzle him. 

“Now Byleth is at it too.” Mercedes smiled and spoke with a dreamy tone.

“Woah. You use his first name?” Sylvain looked scandalized, a hilarious and ironic expression coming from him.

“We do work together every day, also he’s younger than I am.” 

“Still… that just feels so… wrong. He’s the Professor! Linhardt, what do you call him?”

“Byleth and dummy when he makes me mad.” 

“The world is actually falling apart. Who calls their teacher by their first name?”

“I’m married to him.”

“STILL.”

“I did tell you to call me Byleth if you wanted. It’s really not that big a deal.”

“Who wants more booze?” Manuela jumped up and out of her chair, apparently done with her argument and grabbed more bottles of wine from behind the counter. Everyone took another glass and Caspar felt the buzz begin to steal his senses. As more wine came, the table laughed more, forgetting the reason for their presence at the monastery for a sweet evening. 

At some point Caspar swore he heard something about a foursome and watched Sylvain make lewd suggestions to Claude. Manuela mentioned something about “kids these days” and “what they do in the training grounds.” He didn’t remember going back to his dorm with Petra and falling into bed, but still, the morning came despite the alcohol induced lapse in his memory. 

Thankfully, he felt ok, just a bit dry and a slight headache, he had only been hungover twice and he had no desire to repeat the process. 

Then came the bells, loud and blaring, hurting his ears and making his head spin. He always thought them a pretty sound, until now. Minutes passed, and the bells kept ringing, finally he lifted himself from bed, Petra was holding onto him closely, arms wrapped around his bare chest. Just as he was about to wake her, the ringing stopped its accursed tone.

“Ugh, finally.” Caspar fell back into bed and began to stroke Petra’s hair. Slowly, one more round of sleep washed over him.

Little did he know, the bells heralded much more than the start of a new day, for Dimitri and Marianne were about to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys deserved a moment together, also Ashe is strong and can easily lift Felix to do this and should; and Felix would love it. Here's one last happy hurrah for the characters who have arrived before a decidedly unhappy one next week. I have been planning the next chapter since I started this fic, I'm so excited to get to it.
> 
> Edit: Hey everyone! The next chapter will be delayed for a while- I'm going to try to get it up by next Wednesday- the 12th. I've got a lot of work to finish up for Felix week which is rapidly approaching and this next chapter is pretty important so I want to take my time with it. Sorry to delay it but I hope you look forward to what's coming! If I get the chapter done to A+ quality before next Wednesday I'll upload it.


	11. Madness at the Monastery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summit day arrives. Many hope that a diplomatic solution will be reached. With war between Fodlan and Almyra and open rebellion in the cards many hope that peace can still be attained. Egos clash, words are spat and yelled, wood is splintered. It is nothing short of madness in the Monastery Cathedral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! It has been a hot minute since I last updated this fic! Ashe and Felix week took a lot of time and then Quarantine began- I think I'm finally hitting my stride and I am ready to continue dishing out chapters of DED. I won't have a regular upload schedule but all updates will be posted on my [ Twitter!](https://twitter.com/TsarAlek)
> 
> This and the next chapter are two I have long awaited- I'm happy to finally unleash them upon the world.

The day the summit arrived- the feeling in the air atop the mountain monastery was tense to say the least. The frigidity of the incoming winter months only added to the already bleak circumstances.

Pews in the Cathedral were removed and large tables lined up sat in the middle of the rebuilt structure. The statue of the Goddess would watch over the proceedings though Byleth knew the Goddess wasn’t there- but rather inside him. Classes were cancelled, students had been told to train on their own as nearly all of their professors would be in attendance at the summit.

All the lords had arrived and most had come to sit at the grand table. Ferdinand sat beside Lorenz and Lysithea- who had come despite Byleth’s insistence her ailing health was of greater importance than this summit. The hero of Daphnel sat close to Claude and Sylvain, dark expression on her kind face although she did seem to enjoy seeing Claude again. Both Sylvain and Claude dressed in a similar garb: shining golden Barbarossa armor. There would be no revealed skin today- only the full threat of conflict. 

Petra and Caspar wore formal Brigid attire for meetings of war and sat opposite the Almyran cohort. The Archbishop, his Synod, and his allies who remained at the monastery sat at the head of the table- directly in front of the Goddess statue. Rhea’s expression was perhaps darkest of all, Flayn and Seteth seemed to be on edge as well. 

A plethora of other nobles, Dukes, minor Counts, sat at the table as well.

The hour reached ten. The Cathedral bells rung. The summit was set to begin but the worship hall was missing the most important people. The King and Queen had yet to arrive.

A minute passed, two: the room waited with hushed breath and darting eyes.

The large Cathedral doors creaked open.

The King had arrived. Flanked by Queen Marianne and Dedue as well as a plethora of royal guards, the King strode up to his chair and took a seat. He wore a military uniform rather than his black armor or normal royal attire. Marianne wore the familiar blue dress she usually donned during the war. 

The room watched them anxiously. Dimitri’s guards stood behind him, ready to jump into action at a moment's notice- though there were no weapons in the room. A magician didn’t need weapons, and with such famous and powerful sorcerers as Lysithea and Linhardt in the room it seemed Dimitri wasn’t going to take any chances, even if Marianne was of equal renown and power.

Dimitri’s blank expression looked to be bored and he waved, as though saluting the table.

“Well. Let’s begin. In the name of the Goddess Sothis do I rightly convene this summit.” Byleth’s voice rang through the room and the discussions began.

~~~~~

“King Dimitri-”

“Emperor. I am _Emperor_ Dimitri now- by all rights it is the title I should have been crowned with in the first place.”

“I have not crowned you emperor. The Church of Seiros does not recognize your imperial title _King Dimitri.”_ There was an unfamiliar bite in Byleth’s tone. The room looked between the Archbishop and King in a hushed unease.

“Whether you acknowledge it or not is inconsequential. It is the truth. I am Emperor. Use the correct title or don’t- it makes no difference. You’re only making an enemy of the Empire the more you refuse.”

Byleth looked unamused but continued on anyway. “King Dimitri. Queen Marianne. This summit has been called to deal with accusations raised against you. If true- the future of Fodlan seems to be in rather dire straits. Abuse of power, murder, instigation of war, how do you answer?”

“We unequivocally deny them. Dimitri and I have done nothing wrong. The facts will speak for themselves by the end of the day.” Marianne’s crown glinted in the light shining through the stained glass- she looked regal- more royal than anyone in the room. Still- there was a dark expression behind her eyes.

“Well, we will begi-”

“I demand the head of that traitor.” Dimitri spoke without emotion in his voice. He spoke clinically- coldly. His finger shot out to point at Ashe. 

Felix immediately shot to his feet- slamming his hands to the table and through it as his crest activated. Wood splintered and cracked and two large chunks of the simple wooden table broke off. Felix practically snarled. “Over my dead body feral _Pig._ ” 

“I. Am. Your. KING. You will allot me the respect I deserve.” 

“Frankly. Pig is _a kind word_ in comparison to what you actually are. I almost wonder if the Empress of blood would have been a better ruler than you. At least with her we knew what we were getting.” 

The room broke into gasps as it watched Felix sling insults. His eyes began to glow as his crest flared- incited by the rage coursing through his veins. The two stared each other down, neither blinking. Dimitri’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile and he laughed.

“What would Rodrigue think if he were here to hear you now?”

“Don’t you dare mention my father’s name when your father turns in his _grave._ You’re a _disgrace._ ”

That seemed to shut Dimitri up; he looked on aghast. Still, his face contorted into a dark amalgamation of emotions: anger, irritation, he looked about ready to grab Felix and fight him right then. 

The hero of Daphnel whistled and cut through the tense silence in the room. “As enjoyable as listening to this word fight is- we should get back to the main point of the summit. King Dimitri, on what grounds do you accuse Lord Gaspard of treachery?”

“He murdered my father.” Marianne clutched her chest and looked truly distressed.

“Liar. You cry your crocodile tears and lie while you wear the face of an angel. Make no mistake- she’s the same as him.” Felix practically spat as he sat back down in his chair, and pointed at Dimitri. “They’re in on it together.”

“You will respect me, Felix.”

“I would defecate on your grave if given the chance, Pig. You have earned _no_ respect.” 

The room once again gasped. Claude and Sylvain shared a look. Sylvain shook his head with concern coming to the surface of his handsome features. _I… have never seen him this angry._ He seemed to say. Lysithea, Mercedes, and The Hero of Daphnel seemed to be the only ones retaining their composure- no matter how anxious their faces looked. The rest of the room was somewhere between shocked, amazed, and horrified.

Felix didn’t relent. “Tell them Ashe. Tell them how Marianne blasted lightning through old man Edmund’s chest and then turned and pointed at you as the culprit. Tell them how she laughed and slung heinous- if not well deserved- insults at him before she _murdered_ him herself. They _LIE._ Everyone in this room knows that you aren’t versed in magic- you can barely cast heal.” 

“That doesn’t mean he couldn’t train to learn it Felix. I watched him… I watched him murder my father.” Marianne was insistent and she looked to the side in dismay as she spoke.

“No.” Ashe spoke up. “No. I watched _you_ murder him. He demanded horrible things. He demanded that he be given the Edmund territory for all time and that he be exempt from the Viceroyalty system. He… He demanded that Marianne and Dimitri give him their firstborn son to adopt.”

Eyes widened around the room. Claude cocked an eyebrow and Byleth folded his hands in front of him before resting his head on them. 

“That’s outrageous.” “How could he ask that?” “Who did he think he was?” Voices flooded the room with questions.

Ashe stood and resumed speaking. “He called her horrible things. He called her his dog- he felt entitled since he had adopted her. He wanted to profit off of her marriage to the King. Everything he said… He deserved to be locked up. He deserved it. I wouldn’t bat an eye if they executed him but… the way she berated him before blasting lightning through his chest… I don’t know that Marianne. And then… she turned and blamed me.”

“Marianne. What say you?” Ferdinand asked.

“It isn’t true. Ashe killed him. Everything he has said is being fabricated. He’s lying to you all. He’s attempting to turn you against us. I… I would never do that. Frankly… I can’t believe he would say such horrible things about me.” Marianne looked sad, her face contorted in sadness and she clenched her eyes shut. 

"And you think that punishing Ashe with death is a just and fair ruling Marianne? That doesn't sound like you at all." Mercedes gentle features turned down to a frown.

"I agree with Dimitri's judgement. I... I didn't always agree with my father but he didn't deserve to be murdered by Ashe in such a brutal way."

“His arrest was lawful and true. His head will be the penance for his crime.” Dimitri crossed his arms and stared Ashe down.

Felix didn’t jump to his feet and break the table, instead opting to use vocal barbs again. “Silence Pig.” Felix retorted again. “Just attempt it. _I_ _dare you."_

"Why... why do you lie Marianne...? What have I done to deserve you attempting to have me killed?" Ashe lowered his face in confusion and pain filled his features.

"You bat your eyes and blame my wife for your crimes, what a joke- I should have never made you Lord of Gaspard."

“Enough!” Ferdinand yelled. “Quite enough. Are there any other witnesses? Was anyone else in the room? Did anyone hear anything to corroborate either story?”

“It was just us… the three of us.” Ashe looked down.

“It was the perfect plan to frame Ashe. Who would believe his word over the Queen’s? Yet everyone in this room knows. ALL of you. Ashe couldn’t have done it. He can’t even light a fucking stove with flame magic. He couldn’t even summon a gust of wind. There is no way in hell he could have conjured a lightning bolt strong enough to kill Lord Edmund. But _she_ could. And he _IS_ dead.” Felix glared to the end of the table where Marianne looked concerned and Dimitri looked angry… though it seemed off.

“You lie. How dare you accuse my wife of this! I swear to Sothis that I will not rest until You-” He pointed to Ashe. “-You-” He jerked his finger to aim at Ingrid. “-and _YOU”_ He practically yelled as he pointed at Felix. “are hanging from a noose.”

“Woah woah woah. What did _Ingrid_ have to do with any of this?” Sylvain shot to sit upright. “Say I believe _anything_ you’re insinuating right now. And, to be clear, _I don’t._ Why Ingrid?”

“She helped him escape. She’s a traitor. They’re ALL traitors. Frankly, so are you Sylvain. How dare you leave me to serve _him._ ”

“He doesn’t serve me. He’s married to me.” Claude smirked.

“He… what?”

Claude raised his hand and flashed his ring. “He’s married to me.” 

The room had an array of responses. Judith whistled and smacked Claude on the back, Lysithea and Lorenz smiled on towards Claude. Byleth smirked. Petra and Caspar glanced to one another and clasped their hands together. Felix and Ashe smiled- they already knew of course- but now so did all of Fodlan’s nobility. 

“Hm.” Was all Dimitri responded with. 

“I do believe it’s my turn.” Claude stood up. “King Dimitri… For what reason did you execute an entire official Almyran diplomatic envoy?”

Happy smiles turned again to aghast expressions as Claude leveled his own accusation at Dimitri.

“They plotted to murder Marianne, the Queen, alongside the traitor Gustave Dominic.”

“I find that VERY hard to believe.” 

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe it. It’s the truth.” 

Sylvain rose up next to Claude to speak now. “Excuse me Dimitri… but… Gustave’s only purpose in life was to serve you. Almyran diplomats aside, do you really expect us to believe Gustave betrayed you and plotted to murder Marianne? He Forsook the name of Sothis and swore his eternal fealty to only _you_ after… “ He didn’t need to say the rest. Most in the room remembered Annette’s final moments. “Frankly. I don’t believe you.” 

“Frankly you’ve whored yourself off to the Almyran king and your opinion holds no weight here.”

“Frankly. You’re a madman.” Felix rose to stand beside the couple. “You’re a mad, rabid pig.”

Dimitri didn’t respond, only glared daggers across the room. 

“Where is Gustave? I would like to hear from him.” Judith asked, arms crossed.

“Unfortunately, that is impossible. His sentence was carried out _a moon and some time ago._ Gustave Dominic is dead.” 

“Excuse me?” Mercedes stood to speak now. “He’s what?”

“Dead. His execution was carried out the night Ashe and Ingrid escaped. Treachery was in the air that day.” 

“You executed him… and the Almyran diplomats without a trial?” Byleth glared across the table. 

“There was no need. They were guilty. Ashe would have hung beside Gustave if _she-”_ he pointed to Ingrid, “-hadn’t helped him escape. Now, the three of them will hang the same as he did.” 

“You’re a madman… What have you become?” Ingrid stood up to defend herself and practically yelled. “You framed Ashe. You blamed Almyran diplomats for a nonexistent plot to kill Marianne. You executed… your most loyal advisor. You want blood… You… are no king of mine.” Ingrid took a dagger and cleaved the Blaiddyd crest- and crest of the new Kingdom from her cloak. 

“Traitors. Traitors _everywhere. Every last one of you._ You- You ALL began this. I’ve only responded the only way I CAN. I must keep a grip on the Empire now or everything we fought for will fall apart. I have to do THIS. You all have left me no choice.”

“No. You want a war.” Claude pulled out a scroll from his bag resting on the floor and began to read. 

_“To Claude, King of the lands of Almyra in the east, hear these words and take heed. His Imperial Majesty Dimitri I, King of Faerghus, Grand Duke of Leicester, Liberator of Adrestia, and Emperor of Fodlan hereby demands the delivery of Wyverns numbering Five Hundred thousands to the Imperial capital of Fhirdiad. Along with the delivery, his Imperial Majesty demands that Almyra enter the entirety of it’s Barbarossa corp into the service of The Fodlan Empire. Failure to comply with these demands will lead to the immediate beginning of hostilities between The Empire of Fodlan and the Kingdom of Almyra. The Kingdom of Almyra has until the final day of the Red Wolf Moon to accept or decline these terms, knowing that to decline, is to bring the end of Almyra._ It’s signed- Myson Agara- Minister of War.”

Not for the first time did the room fall into a heavy silence. Some members of the summit whispered in hushed tones. Others fell back into their chairs with shock on their features. 

"Where is this Myson Agara? He is Grand Duke of Northern Adrestia correct? Why is he not here?" Seteth leveled the question towards Dimitri.

"He has come up with a rather awful cold and could not attend the summit." Marianne answered for him.

"Besides. He has nothing to answer for- I told him what to write." Dimitri chimed in.

“A cold huh? Convenient. He must have been giving you terrible advice though- or your spy networks are heinously under-performing. Not to divulge Almyran military secrets but… we don’t own five hundred thousand wyverns. We have a fraction of that. Besides that- giving up the Barbarossa corps would be equivalent to swearing fealty to the _Kingdom_ of Fodlan. You sent this with the head of one of my Barbarossa riders for one reason. You want a Casus Belli- a cause for war. You did this deliberately.”

“I desire peace.”

“You desire subjugation of my Kingdom. Where I come from, we don’t call that peace.”

“Had you merely obeyed the missive, your kingdom would have been safeguarded.”

“It was an impossibility- but you knew that when you sent it. You want _war._ We negotiated a sale some moons ago for wyverns- you turned that deal and spat in my face with it. Don’t attempt to lie and say that this is anything but a way to start a war. I see through you.” Claude's piercing gaze bore through Dimitri, yet, he simply returned the glare and the room fell silent as the two kings stared one another down.

Petra, who had largely been silent during the proceedings now stood up. “Claude is correct. I have other evidence of Dimitri’s crimes. An Almyran flier… crashed on our shores. He and his wyvern both perished and were buried in the ocean peacefully.” She nodded towards Claude. “I hope that the Brigid tradition suits his burial, I did not know what else to do for him.” Claude nodded and wiped his face with his hands, distressed but seemingly grateful at her care for his soldier. 

"He must be the solider who escaped but never made it back to Almyra." Claude sighed heavily and gestured Petra continue.

“I have his final words. He wrote them on the run.” Petra looked sad as she pulled out the letter of the dead Almyran flyer and read it aloud. She recounted the Almyran rider’s desperate escape from the Kingdom capital, that they and a man named Gustan, likely meaning Gustave, had been accused of attempting to kill the queen. She read his plea that his sister know he loved her. “Dimitri… you lie.”

“Enough! All of you… you’re out to destroy me and my Kingdom- a Kingdom we ALL helped build. ALL OF YOU want me to fail. I will not be subject to this humiliation a moment longer.”

Rhea, for the first time that day, spoke up with a roar, “You shame _YOURSELF._ You were granted guardianship over Fodlan and now you threaten to tear it apart once more!” Her green eyes shone as her passions flared. “For what reason do you perpetuate this… this Madness?”

"You murdered diplomatic envoys on false charges. You sent the head of one of my riders back to Almyra with an impossible demand. YOU have begun this whole mess for one single reason." Claude crossed his arms and Dimitri slammed the table with his fist.

Dimitri shot up and Marianne rose beside him. “Enough! I have heard enough- traitors and enemies reside on every side. It’s done. I formally declare war upon the Kingdoms of Almyra and Brigid. I will wipe Fraldarius, Gaspard, and Galatea from the map for your crimes. Any who oppose me will _pay._ Including the _Church._ You will all know the price of your treachery.” 

“I would be careful what you say Dimitri. Don’t say anything you can’t take back. There _is_ a diplomatic solution here.” Seteth’s voice was calm despite the roaring panic of murmurs and whispers in the room.

“No. I have heard quite enough. The world stands against me- as it always has. So I will burn it and remake it and it will never stand against me again. Follow me or die.”

Byleth slammed his hands to the table and rose. His green eyes seemed to burn as he spoke. “The Church stands against you. I encourage all lords to rise with us against the bloodthirsty king. You _will_ be put down.” 

“Lords. Follow me. If you don’t then I will burn your family tree, branch by branch and replace you with those who are _loyal_. Stand with me or perish.”

The room erupted into murmuring and yelling, whispers and panic. Many of the older Kingdom lords rose to their feet and walked to the end of the table beside Dimitri. Yet, many remained seated. Judith of Daphnel, Lord Galatea, Ferdinand, Lysithea and Lorenz, All of the Synod, Felix, Ashe, so many sat in opposition to the king. 

“You will be wiped from the map and removed from the history I will write. Just like Edelgard. History will remember me as a hero, and all of you will be nothing. Come, Dedue.”

Dedue had been largely silent for the entirety of the admittedly short summit. Yet now, he remained seated. He held his hands over his face and looked to be most distressed.

Slowly, he rose to his feet. 

“Good, Let’s be off. We have plans to make.”

But Dedue did not follow when Dimitri and Marianne turned to leave. He instead chose to walk over and stand beside Byleth.

“You… Even you betray me. No matter. I will rend you for your crimes just the same- our friendship is _dead._ Do you hear me…? DEAD. _”_ He snarled across the table- some wicked expression over his face. Dedue said nothing and when Dimitri found he would obtain no reaction, he turned to face the doors.

Dedue averted his gaze and did not watch as Dimitri and Marianne began to walk. Yet his face was set in stalwart resolution. He didn’t seem sad, only determined.

“When next we meet, it will be on the battlefield. I will show you no mercy.” 

With that, Dimitri and Marianne turned and walked off with more than a comfortable amount of old lords loyal to him. The large doors swung closed with a thundering bellow, leaving those who remained in resolute silence.

Felix was the first to move and make a noise. With a loud yell, he turned, raised his fists high over his head, and brought them down, smashing through the table in front of him. With a resounding crack, it gave way and split down the middle, falling in on itself and crumbling to the floor. Felix's eyes glowed red- his crest burned. 

No one reprimanded him. Ashe walked up behind him and gripped his waist, pulling him into a hug from behind. Byleth fell back into his chair and covered his face in his hands. Dedue placed a hand on Byleth’s shoulder while Linhardt stood and walked away to look out of the stained glass window behind them.

“Well… that could have gone better.” Most were too shocked to respond to Judith.

“What… what even happened to him?” Lysithea sighed and held her hand over her forehead. “He’s… a monster.”

“He’s always been a monster. It’s merely the first time you’ve seen him lash out against someone who wasn’t Edelgard.” 

“I can’t believe that is the same man I fought with on the battlefield…” Ferdinand murmured to no one in particular.

Felix removed his glasses and turned around, gripping Ashe close, resting his face in Ashe’s shoulder. “He won’t hurt you. He won’t. I won’t let him. I would die to protect you.”

“I won’t let you die Felix. I love you.” Ashe reached up and pulled Felix’s hair free, stroking it with his hand. Most of the room turned to look away, giving them a gentle moment to recenter themselves. 

“We are at war… again. So soon after so many died. Could I have said something better? What could I have said…?” Seteth placed a hand on Rhea’s shoulder and squeezed.

“No. He had this in mind when he arrived. Nothing he did today showed he wanted anything other than to drag Fodlan to war. I doubt he would have listened if his own father was standing on this side of the table.” 

Flayn, who had remained resolutely silent during the proceedings now ran and jumped into Dedue’s arms. The large man’s facial expression changed to one of gentleness as he embraced her. It was well known in the monastery that Dedue and Flayn were a complimentary pair- truly destined friends. They whispered inaudibly in the loud room while everyone else processed the short summit.

Byleth sighed heavily. “There are plenty of rooms. All of you will be given houses in the knight’s district to reside in. Take the rest of the day off. Tomorrow… we have to begin planning. Dimitri must fall.”

“I will help organize the housing plans with the knights if you will have me.” Lorenz chimed. 

“Please do.” 

Lorenz took off after kissing Lysithea’s forehead. Slowly, the nobles rose to their feet. Ferdinand looked haunted. Lysithea looked ill, though that was perhaps on account of her affliction, rather than the day’s events. Caspar was the most quiet any had ever seen him, he and Petra both looked rather at a loss. Their defense of Almyra had landed them in the midst of another war. Ingrid and Sylvain embraced and Claude strode away to speak to Dedue and Byleth. Everyone else dispersed to some better and more tranquil place in the monastery.

Outside the walls of Garreg Mach, Dimitri and his cohort began their march back to Fhirdiad. Riding at the head was the King and Queen- Emperor and Empress- smiling. 

~~~~~

_Some time ago_ ~

The bells rang. Gustave looked up and watched, heard, the thundering wingbeats of Wyvern and Pegasus cascading out from the city. Blankly he watched them split into groups and fly off into the dark and moonless night sky. Gustave sighed and felt tears well on the sides of his eyes. Shouting and the ringing of bells filled his ears, all of the capital was in an uproar. _How had this happened?_

Perhaps some of his so called _co-conspirators_ had escaped their cells. 

Gustave looked up at the stars shining above. So many bright stars... Soon- he would be walking amongst them. Perhaps... perhaps he would even see Annette again- if she could bare to look at him after all his miserable failures. If the Goddess didn't send him into the despair of empty nothingness... he would apologize to her. He never got to while she yet lived. He wouldn't even be able to properly apologize to her mother... 

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry Annette... Joane... I'm sorry."

Still, he whispered his apologies into the loud and roaring night. Beside him, nooses around their necks, Almyran men whispered in their tongue, perhaps saying their own final farewells and apologies.

He didn't have time to imagine what they said. The floorboard fell out beneath him without warning and Gustave, known by many as Gilbert, thought of one last thing before his neck snapped.

Annette... wearing a crown made of beautiful lilies, smiling, hugging him and her mother- yes, if there was one good thing Gustave Dominic did, it was help bring Annette into this world- even if her time had been far too short lived. 

Gustave Dominic did not yell when he fell to his death. When the executioner came to check his pulse- he found the man smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus does it begin again. The battle lines will be drawn- allegiances tested- and all of the continent will prepare itself for yet more war.
> 
> Updates posted on [ Twitter!](https://twitter.com/TsarAlek)


	12. The Setting of One Sun and the Rising of Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man sits on the beach and enjoys his final moments in the world. His life flashes before him but when the reaper calls he welcomes him as an old friend. Elsewhere in the world new life is born into the dark and cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have questions at the end of this chapter, you might have answers. I hope you enjoy- forces are on the move and very soon the war will begin.

Few noticed the old man stuck in his own reverie at dinner. He was always thinking, always pondering, his silence was not out of the ordinary. Lantana- stalwart old protector of Brigid… at the head of his family table he sat, eating, lost in his own mind.

Lantana had seen many things in his admittedly long time on the watery planet where life resided. In younger years, decades long since past, he had been married. They had struggled for years in vain to bear children and after so much effort, his son had been born but it sent his wife to the next world to await him. 

Lantana loved his son dearly and was as good a father as one could be. He raised him well, taught him how to survive, how to lead. Sometimes the boy that would one day become Petra’s father asked about his mother and Lantana was quick to tell him every story about the incredible orange haired woman he had married. She never failed to grapple even the most burly of island men. She was so skilled that close quarters combat of her style was taught to this day and considered the gold standard. She swam with a shark she called Lilah and held onto her fin. She was the greatest archer who ever lived and could shoot a pheasant from over 200 yards away. _Perhaps that one was a tad exaggerated._ But that was how Lantana remembered her. Esmy- his wife who left this world some 5 decades ago was perfect, except when it came to her ability to fish. She simply had no patience for it.

Petra’s father, Elba, seemed to grow up happy and content. He made for a great leader… to the point that Lantana abdicated the throne of Brigid to him eight years after he reached legal age. The population of so many hundreds of thousands of people across many hundred miles of islands and ocean was simple for Elba to manage. He was truly a good king.

Even so, he died. Lantana meant it when he said he held no ill will towards Caspar’s father. War is war and it is hell. Petra’s mother passed in the conflict and Adrestia had stolen Petra away as a hostage. Lantana reluctantly took the throne again and served Adrestia as he knew he had to. 

He could remember the storm clouds brewing seven, soon to be eight years ago. He remembered praying for Petra every day… and when she returned to the island and stood against Adrestia, he knew she would be a wonderful queen.

He could remember the signs he saw in the flames. He remembered the promise of death and war. He had always been particularly connected to the spirits, even when grief ensured he spoke to them less. That was how he knew.

He knew the summit had failed. He knew it was happening again. This time he had the sinking feeling that his old bones would not see the light at the end of the darkness rising on the horizon. The eyes he felt on his back for the past two weeks since Petra and Caspar departed only added to the realization. 

Still. Despite all the pain and sadness… he had lived a long and good life and Lantana sat at dinner knowing he was truly content.

~~~~~

Lantana left the dining hall early that night. With a wave, he departed to the beach where the sun’s rays were slowly trailing below the watery horizon. 

Lantana rolled out a mat and sat. The incense burner he left here earlier was still sitting and Lantana lit a stick and left it burning. The smell of sandalwood flooded his nostrils and he sighed, enjoying one more moment in paradise. 

Orange chased pink on the horizon, red and yellow kissed sweetly among the clouds that shone a golden yellow. Dark, dark blue and black pushed the colors down, below the waves… slowly. They always won in the end- yet, Lantana knew that the colors would be back to play in the morning. Yes. They would be back.

_Even if I am not._

Lantana chuckled. Stars began to peek out as the dark chased the colors of the sun away. A new moon tonight… Admittedly, he prefered bright nights. They reminded him of the evening he proposed to Esmy, under the full moon so many decades ago. 

“Why don’t you come out from there and sit with an old man for a moment?” He chuckled to himself again. 

There was a rustling behind him. A figure in dark clothing emerged from the tropical bushes and strode up before sitting beside him.

“Care for a drink?” Lantana smiled at the boy who could be no older than twenty. The bottle in Lantana’s hand was a dark golden brown at the bottom.

The boy nodded and Lantana reached beside him where he had two glasses ready. The liquid filled each one and Lantana handed the boy his drink. 

Lantana sipped but the boy gulped it down, quickly.

“How did you know I was there?” His voice was gentle, like his features. His eyelashes were long, as was his golden hair. His hands were rough and Lantana couldn’t help but imagine what better things his hands would be used for in another life. Gardening… farming? Perhaps he was a scholar and only ever harmed his languid and beautiful fingers with paper cuts. Perhaps still... He played the piano and fed the world with beautiful music. Lantana found himself hoping the boy could yet do one of those before he strayed too far down this path.

“You get a feel for these things. I may not look it, but I’m sure I’ve outlived you four times already. I never imagined that my end would be delivered by someone who barely has to shave. Then again… I’m sure you’ve seen your own share of hardship.”

“Why? Why call out to me if you know why I’m here?” 

“Call it seeking companionship. My granddaughter isn’t here. I can’t say goodbye to her or the man she loves. And… I wanted to tell you I forgive you.” Lantana reached out and placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. He squeezed. “You’re just trying to survive yourself aren’t you?” He smiled, even as the far younger boy frowned and looked down to the sand, ashamed.

“Why are you being kind to me… I’m here to…”

“I know what you’re here for. I’m not afraid. A little sad, sure, but… I’ve lived a long life. It was happy… it was sad, and tonight…” Lantana cast his gaze out over the dancing hues of color, retreating faster as the night overtook it. “- it is over. I might perhaps see her on the other side and tell her the wonderful things her Granddaughter is doing. That… I look forward to.”

Lantana took another sip of his drink. “You won’t need that friend.” Lantana gestured towards the knife in the sand. “I’ve done the job for you.” Lantana handed his would-be assassin a vial that sat in the sand beside him..

The boy looked up in shock. “You… drank this?”

“Consider it an old man’s kindness to a boy who has already lived a long and arduous life himself. My blood is not on your hands tonight.” 

“Why are you doing this? By all rights… you should hate me.” His face contorted into some sort of anger, likely directed to no one but himself.

“I doubt I would be the first kill you’ve had, and I doubt I will end up the last. This… is all I can give you, friend of so many lesser years. I can offer you no hope and no joy. But I can make one part of your life just a bit less ugly.”

The one who was sent to kill him began to gently cry. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he began to sob. Lantana reached out and pulled his would-be killer into an embrace. 

“Remember the words of an old man, will you? Even in a world of death… enjoy the small things. A good bottle of booze- but… not too much… the scent of incense burning… the intimate touch of someone you love… those are what get you through a night of sadness. Live for those and you will live a long and happy life as I have- even should you lose so much.”

The boy did not respond. He merely sobbed as Lantana held him close and stroked his long and golden hair. They sat for many moments, listening to the sounds of the sea, listening to the wind whistle through the tropical brush of the most beautiful land on this planet- Brigid. The incense burned it’s beautiful scent and Lantana’s hand gently fell to the side, stroking his friend’s hair no more.

 _I have lived… such a good life._

The man slowly rose. He stroked the forehead of his old friend and closed his eyes. He was happy and at peace, there was such a contented smile on his old and worn face. The man righted him, and laid him back. On his chest… he left a flower- one of magnificent and regal purple. The final rays of the sun fell below the horizon and as the man ran back into the brush with tears in his eyes, the last of the incense ceased to glow.

~~~~~

 _Shambhala… Shambhala… Shambhala…_ Marianne wracked her brain and thought. It wasn’t a name she felt she had heard before in her life… yet, with scarce to do in this dimly lit room she only had her mind and Dimitri’s perpetually tense form to converse with.

She poured over every map she could conjure in her mind. Morfis to the southeast… Albinea to the northwest, Sreng, Brigid, Almyra- none of them had any cities or mountain ranges, lakes or rivers that she could remember were named _Shambhala._ Even so- she poured over any text she could recall, any geography book and any map. The result was always the same: a headache and irritation. 

The cell within which she and Dimitri were kept was large enough to be considered comfortable, had a large bed which they shared, and had a bookcase with history tomes, all of which she had already read. There was a small closed off room with the strangest bath quarters she had ever seen. There was a black seat whereupon which you sat to use the restroom. There was also a black tub that water flowed from without the need to light a fire and yet was warm. Truth be told, they were amazing inventions and she had to marvel at them even if she and Dimitri were held captive here, wherever here was. 

They were fed what she assumed was thrice daily, although in the dimly lit darkness that seemed to permeate the entire strange and confounding structure it was hard to tell what day was. Everything blended together. Day and night, weeks and days, months, time blended together.

Dimitri used to be angry. He used to yell and shout and scream at the guards who brought them food. He used to punch the walls until his knuckles were bleeding and Marianne would have to wipe them down. Every time he did that, bandages would be delivered with their next meal. It was during one such incident that she found she couldn’t cast any magic within their cell. 

Occasionally the sound of rushing air would fill their room and she and Dimitri would fall asleep. It was likely more to put Dimitri to sleep than her, he had beast-like strength with or without weapons and would no doubt fight to ensure no one touched her. After she passed out, she always awoke in a different place with strange objects around her and people in dark robes placing cold and strange objects to her body. They hardly spoke and when she asked them what they were doing they mostly replied they were monitoring her.

Whatever they had been doing… hastened the growth of her baby. She went into labor at what had to be at least a month early. Dimitri had been wonderful, rushing to get hot water, he was so prepared to deliver the baby. Marianne was going to instruct him on what to do… but never got the chance. The air hissed in and when she awoke, she was back in their cell and found a light, almost unseeable scar over her torso. 

Dimitri told her she had been gone for fifteen meals… likely five days.

They both sobbed. Marianne felt an ache in her heart, in her soul. She couldn’t shake the depression for so many meals- those damn meals became their measurement of time. Eventually, depression turned to white hot rage to the point where she was tempted to bloody her knuckles on the walls as Dimitri had done when they arrived. Instead, she wracked her brain, endlessly, never coming to any conclusion. There was nothing they could do here except wait for rescue. She constantly thought about Dedue… about Ashe and Ingrid. She thought about what a panic the Kingdom must be in right now, searching tirelessly for its missing monarchs. Mostly, she thought about her faceless child, her baby. They had already chosen a name, Remi von Blaiddyd- a name to fit either sex. She thought about Remi so often… did they have blue hair like her or the traditional Blaiddyd blonde? Were their eyes the color of the sky or stormy like hers? She yearned to see her child, she yearned to burn this whole dark fortress to the ground. Her anger was unlike anything she had ever felt inside and it scared her even as she basked in the sanctity of her rage.

Whatever was going on here, they had taken her baby and if Marianne had to open the gates of hell to save her child, she would. If she had to kill every last one of them she would. If she had to sacrifice her humanity then it was already done. 

“Marianne.”

She looked up from the book she wasn’t really reading to find Dimitri standing in the middle of their dimly lit cell. He pointed to the door.

It opened. 

A man walked in, he was hideous and old. His white hair was slightly unkempt and his eyes lacked any irises. Black and red robes descended down his thin body. He wore a wicked snarl on his disgusting countenance and Marianne imagined rendering him into a pile of ash, even though she knew that whatever this place was trapped her magical ability.

“Obey, behave, and I will take you to see your children.”

“Our… what?” Dimitri balked at the hideous man.

“Rejoice. You are the parents of _twins_.” 

Marianne felt a rushing in her ears and she did not hear what the man said next. She did not hear Dimitri shout at the man and demand to know where they were and what they were here for. 

When the man dropped chains to ground she knew they were meant for them. Without question she fastened them to her wrists and ankles. Without waiting for Dimitri, she walked past the man and out into the hall. 

She heard mumbling and knew that Dimitri and the hideous man were conversing. 

“Dimitri.” She called out. She said nothing more, just his name, with a bite to her tongue she rarely used. Her tone was final. He was coming with her.

Moments later he was standing beside her in the same chains. 

She could feel the hum of magic in them, she knew they dulled her magic and she felt them sapping her strength. It didn’t matter. She would play the role they wanted to see if it meant getting a feel for the layout of this place and seeing her… babies. _Babies_ . _Twins._

They walked, the cavern within which the grand city resided was massive. Some cities in Fodlan were smaller than this in both size and scale. She traced their path, left, right, left. She saw an enormous, temple looking structure in the middle of a giant plaza and made note of it. 

They continued walking for what felt like hours until finally they reached a building. The doors slid open on their own. It was some form of magic Marianne didn’t care to ponder with the idea of meeting her babies at the forefront of her mind.

The hideous man led them into a room and pressed some sort of button on the wall. She was only mildly startled when the room seemingly teleported and the doors opened into a different place than where they entered. Nothing in this place made sense anyway.

Through a series of halls and corridors they walked. Another eternity passed but Marianne memorized every turn, every hall, every minor marker that could be used to ascertain position. If this was where her babies were being kept, she would know to come here and get them first. 

Two large doors slid open and Marianne and Dimitri entered the room. The man stood outside and once the doors shut, their shackles fell free.

Marianne barely took notice.

The ringing in her head intensified as she looked upon the faces of her children. 

She fell to the ground sobbing- they were beautiful and she reached out to hold them. She pulled them into her arms and held them close, stroking their beautiful blue hair, and caressing their cheeks. Dimitri fell to his knees beside her. 

Everything was wrong. Everything. Yet in this moment she found one thing was right- she was reunited with her children, Dimitri was by her side. 

Now all she had to do was figure out how to tear a bloody path out of this place.

~~~~~

Dimitri sat beside Marianne in the throne room. The lords and ministers, those loyal to the throne, had all returned to their quarters and at last they were alone. Two weeks of travel back to Fhirdiad was exhausting, especially when the pair were used to simply teleporting with magic to their destination.

The man allowed his facade to break, it was exceedingly exhausting to wear another's skin for so long, when not used to the disguise. Even after months in this body, it was tiresome. His companion merely laughed at him as he took a deep and tired sigh.

"Aw. Old and weak. Poor little thing." Her face contorted into a snarl as her magical facade too, fell away. 

The figures of the King and Queen dissipated into the darkness and both returned to the form they were most comfortable, forms they had worn for years upon years. The abrupt end of the war sparked by the return of that cursed man had put an abrupt halt to all their plans but it was nothing that a little improvisation couldn't fix. Faking their deaths was no easy feat and the woman wore an ugly scar on her face and chest to prove it- yet here they were. Here they were, planning anew.

The man stood up and his dark hair fell down his shoulders. He held his hand out to the woman. With a confident smile, she took it and allowed him to help her up to stand. 

"All our plans are coming along nicely. I've heard word that we are now parents and that the plan is advancing to the next stage." He entwined their arms and gently led her out of the throne room and across the hall to their private chambers. 

"My. They do work fast. I suppose this means we will be playing a bit of catch up- although our part of the plan is simplest of all. It always has been."

"Have you been building your playthings?"

"Of course I have, I know not to rely on them so heavily but they are effective at killing droves of the weaker ones at the very least. My sweet children will be a boon to our armies. Now all we have to do is march." She laughed and the man saw her blue eyes glow with something wicked.

"We draw up the battle plans in the morning my _dear._ Although, I have a good feeling that they're going to be caught with their trousers down." 

"You always were good at scheming. It's a shame all your plotting to declaw the Adrestian emperor came to naught, his daughter was more than you bargained for."

"And what of Dimitri? He was certainly beyond your capabilities to control either. Neither of us will be so foolish as to make a weak mistake like that again, I'm sure." 

The two unlocked arms as they arrived at their room and strode in. Moonlight cast its silver glow over the bedchambers; someone had forgotten to shut the curtains. The woman walked up and closed them, but the man took a long look at her features from behind. She always looked rather beautiful in that dress, and her long and strawberry hair cascading down her back was his favorite feature of her's. They weren't involved in any way but the form she had stolen so long ago was definitely easy on the eyes.

"Shall we turn in then? It seems like it will be a big day tomorrow _Dimitri."_

"Yes... yes I think we shall _Marianne."_

Her scarred face smiled and she took the form of the blue haired queen once again; the man who settled into bed beside her was once again the king. 

Woe to the world around them, for the harbingers of death had plans and all of Fodlan would suffer again at the hands of the two agents plunging it into chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Petra's grandfather is technically a character already but fleshing him out a bit made it agonizingly painful to do this. Rest peacefully Lantana...
> 
> Marianne and Dimitri... we finally get to see them again struggling with life in the dark. Perhaps this chapter is a ray of hope for them at last or perhaps it is yet more despair. Their specters certainly have plans in the capital. 
> 
> The next chapter is going to answer quite a few questions... then everything is going to start heating up as the battles begin. The chapter should be up soon but I have other things to work on as well! As always, updates will be on my [ Twitter!](https://twitter.com/TsarAlek)


	13. The Spectre of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The War Council meets to begin its plans to fight King Dimitri; lines are drawn, plans are made, but lo and behold the meeting is interrupted by a visitor no one was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been planning this chapter for months, I've always had it in the back of my brain, it's been split into two parts, otherwise it would have been between 6 and 8k words- I hope you enjoy!

_ “I love you. I love you both so much.” _

_ “Love… what is that?” _

_ “How do you love?” _

_ “It’s… Well. It’s like a…” _

_ “It’s a feeling. Inside. When you love someone… you feel warm here, right in your chest. You smile when you see them, you want them to be happy.” _

_ “Is… is that why you always smile at us?” _

_ “Yes. We love you both.” _

_ … _

_ … _

_ “What does it mean to be happy?” _

~~~~~

Ferdinand took a seat at the table. Just a week ago this table had hosted the summit: the summit that ended in utter failure. 

He had sent letters, so many letters, to so many nobles underneath him.  _ Gather the armies, ready the storehouses, fortify the border. Fodlan is at war again.  _

He was at war again. 

Another war. More death. More Dorotheas and Bernadettas were sure to follow. Names that had been lost to statistics; supposedly, about one hundred-fifty thousand soldiers had died in the war. No one bothered to count the civilians who died of starvation while crops failed and fields were burned. How many more would die now?

The room was once again filled with familiar faces. Heroes, saviors, liberators- so many laudable titles attached to so many names sat side by side, staring at a map. Ferdinand had never wished so much to be born as anyone else in any other time than this moment now. 

“Our forces are split. This is a terrible strategic position to deal with, we’re going to have to consolidate in specific areas. Station our armies in defensible positions and establish vanguards that can make incursions into their territory.” Byleth bellowed into the cathedral, plans of war instead of sermons on the importance of love and cooperation.

Judith stood. “We might have most of the large population centers on our side but they have the largest army, they have the most men. He’s been expanding his ranks for the last multiple moons, they vastly outnumber us and there are already murmurings coming from the peasantry in support of the king. We would be hard pressed to convince most of them to take up arms and it would take moons to train them all into any form of being combat ready.”

“Our best bet at the moment is to await Almyran reinforcements. We will also have to rely on Brigid aid.”

“They should arrive by the end of the moon.” Claude replied, hand on his chin and scheming look of contemplation on his countenance. “Nader sent word that the the first and second armies were quite nearly to Fodlan’s throat.”

“Let’s take a look at the map then and figure out our most defensible positions. We have to stay guarded until we can fill our ranks with reinforcements.”

The usual strategists stood up, Linhardt, Claude, Byleth, Judith- but Ferdinand remained seated.

“Alright miracle boys, let’s strategize.”

“Dimitri and his loyalists are in control of a majority of the former kingdom lands, Houses Rowe, Gideon, Mateus, Kleiman, and Charon all remained loyal to him. All of those houses are highly militarized and make up the bulk of his armies. They alone would be a strong contingent to have to deal with.” Claude pointed to each on the map, taking a quill to draw lines depicting their enemy.

“The Fraldarius and Gautier territories, as well as Gaspard and Galatea are obviously fighting the king. Ingrid’s father couldn’t accept that his daughter was almost murdered by the king. And… me and Ashe have an obvious investment.” Felix was, for once, seemingly entirely calm. “Save for a small contingent left for defense, all of our forces are already stationed here at the foot of the monastery. The Fraldarius and Gautier forces are elite but lack numbers. We’re far to the north, it’s a barren wasteland half the year and mildly sunny with a chance of snow the rest of it. I have about twenty thousand men.”

Ashe spoke next. “I have about five thousand men. Gaspard mainly supplies grain and supplies, not armies. The majority of people in Gaspard are farmers, but support is high for us among them.” 

Judith cocked her head to the side. “So… from the former kingdom, we have about twenty five to thirty thousand men and some arable land. They have what? Three times the men?”

Claude looked contemplative, “But far less arable land. It will be difficult for them to feed that many mouths, especially while they’re missing a majority of their farmlands. That’s a problem for us. They’ll attack Gaspard first to gain access to the grain silos.”

“Hold that in your minds for now. We should examine the rest of the situation.” Lorenz said with a wave of his hand. “We should move on, there is good news about this fight. Nearly the entirety of the former Alliance is fighting with us, though, as usual, sentiments are divided. Public opinion is… about half and half. The only lord of the alliance not formally aligned with the church is Queen Marianne herself, who inherited the Edmund territory after the death… murder, of her father. Her land is isolated though rich. She inherited a massive navy which could prove to be a detriment to us.”

“Lorenz is right. The Almyran navy is rather small in comparison to the merchant fleets of house Edmund, they could lay siege to Derdriu. What’s worse, my spies have told me that they’ve been fitting their ships with ballistas.” Claude pinched the bridge of his nose, as if staving off a headache.

“Your wyverns. Your Barbarossa corps. They’re in danger if they attempt to fight over the sea. Ballista bolts aren’t exactly conducive to a long and happy life for a wyvern or it’s rider.” Lorenz shifted on his feet. “The corps is perhaps our greatest boon at the moment.”

“Exactly. Perhaps we should be sending a vanguard to take the Edmund territory. It’s isolated behind the mountains and by sea from their core of power.. If we can take their navy early it could prove useful to us.” Claude shifted on his feet, placing his hands behind his back and stretching.

“We can come back to that. Let’s finish up drawing the lines.” Byleth circled Edmund and scrawled illegible words near it.

“Right, Adrestia-” Judith began only to be interrupted.

“It’s divided nearly evenly. As temporary Grand Duke of the south, the lords there have joined us. But in the north, under Lord Agara, they’ve remained loyal. From Remire, or what’s left of it, to Fodlan’s Fangs and the former Nuvelle lands he holds control. It’s fairly mountainous but there are large population centers in the Nuvelle lands and it’s nearly impossible to invade from the south. There’s a reason all the fighting in these wars happens around the monastery, it's surrounded on all sides by flatlands.” Ferdinand barely moved, barely looked at the map as he spoke. He barely seemed alive at all. 

“There’s another problem. Hevring land is in the north. It’s not very large, it’s nestled between two mountain ranges on the coast, and while there is a large city on the coast, it’s main function was mainly to be a hub of knowledge, there isn’t that large a force guarding it. It's, strategically, a nightmare.” Lin sighed, “Perhaps it’s best to let them take it.”

“The forces of Brigid could help defend it but it may be wise to allow Hevring to peacefully surrender and fight elsewhere. I would be bringing about thirty thousand men to fight but I do not want to fight for land that will fall so quickly.” Petra stood up to get a better look at the map.

“I don’t know about that. Where you see a nightmare, I see opportunity.” Claude smiled, grinning that knockout grin. 

“What are you scheming now Claude?” Lorenz looked both exasperated but… perhaps underneath his front, excited. He had come to trust Claude’s schemes and plans just as everyone in the room had.

“What if we make our main push there? You’re right, it’s terrible to defend. It’s a nightmare to supply. If we make our first, most decisive strike there we could potentially seize large portions of the northern side of Adrestia without them knowing what hit them. It’s crazy. It’s something we would never do, probably  _ shouldn’t do, _ which means…”

“We should do it. It’s stupid enough to work.” Judith laughed and slapped Claude on the back. “If nothing else, it’ll provide a good distraction and allow us to make advances elsewhere. And if the forces can maintain supply lines and seize a few castles along the way, they can solidify their battle lines and hopefully stabilize the field to a more advantageous situation for us.”

Mirthlessly, Ferdinand cut in, “Supply won’t be a problem. The Adrestian fleet is stationed at Enbarr and there was a good harvest this year. It won’t be a problem to supply the soldiers fighting in Hevring from Enbarr stores. It’s a stupid plan but a well thought out one. No one is breaking through the mountain range between Varley and the ruins of Remire anyway. Some of my men can assist Brigid forces there.” 

“Sounds like we have the beginnings of a plan Lord Aegir. Well then we shoul-”

Claude was interrupted as the large cathedral doors swung wide and Seteth stomped into the room with Flayn in tow.

“What’s happened?” Byleth asked, looking up to face them.

Seteth strode to the end of the table, looking out over the war council. “Sreng has launched an invasion of Fodlan.” 

~~~~~

_ “Our hair is the same.” _

_ “It is.” _

_ “Why is his hair wrong?” _

_ “Your Father’s hair isn’t wrong, it’s just a different color than ours. Outside… there are lots of colors of hair. Blue, yellow, orange, brown, black… many.” _

_ “Why isn’t ours his color?” _

_ “I suppose that the Goddess simply imagined you should have my color instead of his.” _

_ “Is she nice? The Goddess? _

_ “I hope so… I really hope so.” _

~~~~~

“Fraldarius and Gautier have fallen to the Srengese forces, refugees are flooding into the capital and surrounding provinces. Early reports are saying there are thousands, maybe tens of thousands of them cascading over the countryside. The small garrison that Lord Fraldarius left was all but overrun; those who can still fight are aiding the retreat of the refugees.” Seteth handed the report to Byleth, who opened it and scanned the contents.

“It’s likely they noticed the weakened state of the border defenses, a large majority of my army is here, not there.” Felix covered his face with his hand and shook his head. “Some Lord I am.”

Claude held up his hands as though to soothe him. “Now wait just a moment, don’t be getting defeatist on us now. This is an opportunity. We were never going to be able to defend that territory, not with it so close to their capital, beyond the mountains, and over the sea. Dimitri was going to take that territory first anyway… now though, now he has to defend against the Srengese. They’ve opened up an opportunity for us. Teach, is there anything else in that report? What’s the Kingdom doing?”

“It says they’re fortifying the border and have some thousands of men setting up makeshift forts. They have a particularly sturdy fort being constructed outside the capital, since it’s so close to the border of Gautier.”

“See? They’re distracted. If Sreng pushes in, Dimitri has to re-allocate his forces to defend the capital. If Fhirdiad falls to Sreng then the people will lose hope in him and fiefdoms will fracture with the loss of a centralized power base. While horrible for the civilians… we can use this. We  _ have _ to use it.”

Felix looked displeased but didn’t say anything further, simply nodding in agreement. 

Ashe placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. We can return the people to their homes when the war is over, we can negotiate with Sreng, or… fight if we have to.”

“Fine.”

“How will we press the advantage?” Petra stood up. “We were already planning to attack from Hevring land, do you suppose we attack elsewhere as well?”

Claude pondered a moment, “Edmund, we seize Edmund. With Sreng causing them problems in the north and your forces attacking the west, we can attack the east and take their naval fleet out of the equation. Even if they outnumber us for now, Almyran forces are marching, we only have the disadvantage in the early phase. We need to position ourselves in place to capitalize on our reinforcements. Half of chess is just maneuvering until you find the right moment to strike after all. If the eastern attack fails or stalls, we have to make the western attack succeed. This has to be point number one, with that navy, they can threaten Almyran coastal cities and if all of my soldiers are here in Fodlan, we’ll have a problem.”

“Well boy, it sounds like a very  _ you _ plan. But your plans haven’t failed us yet.” Judith laughed, her joviality a ray of sun over the dark meeting.

“The plans are set. Attack into Northern Adrestia from Hevring and assault Edmund Territory. I believe we should also defend the Gaspard lands, for as long as possible. We have plenty of grain stores in the southern lands but keeping Dimitri from Gaspard grain is going to be advantageous for us. We might have to fight dirty, we  _ will  _ have to fight dirty. But we must be victorious. Now, we must set up a chain of command. Claude and I shall act as field marshalls. Claude will organize attacks while I set up and allocate resources for defense. We need generals to lead our armies.”

“I’ll do it. They all know the name of the Hero of Daphnel, I’ll lead an army. I’ve faced worse odds and won.” 

“I would like to assist you Judith. I feel more at ease on the move than waiting on the defense.” 

“I don’t mind Lorenz, so long as you can take orders, Lieutenant.” 

“It would be my pleasure to work under your command.” Lorenz saluted and pounded his chest.

“I would take command of an army alongside Caspar. We are ideal for the western assault, the soldiers of Brigid and Adrestia both would know us.” 

“Queen Petra and Caspar will lead the western assault then. I fee-”

Linhardt cut Byleth off from finishing his sentence. “I’ll be joining them as well.” 

“Lin? You’re going to fight?”

“A strategist on the ground with them is going to be necessary, they have arguably the most difficult plan to enact. I’ll go. It’s my territory anyway.” He sighed and waved his hand dismissively. 

Byleth gave him a look, something only Lin could interpret but neither said another word. Byleth simply nodded. 

“Yeah! It’s been too long since we got to hang out Linhardt!” Caspar laughed and dragged Lin over into a hug.

“We aren’t hanging out, it’s war Caspar.”

“I still get to see you, you gotta be happy when you can in times like this.”

Lin relented, allowing himself to embrace Caspar back. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I will be glad to have you with us Linhardt. I have much trust in you.” 

Byleth cleared his throat gently and continued. “Felix, Ashe, I would have you defend Gaspard for as long as you can. Don’t endanger yourselves, if it becomes too dangerous you should retreat with your armies to defend the mountains around Garreg Mach. Everyone else here, you will be allowed to decide where you fight or defend. We will be setting up defenses in

the Galatea territory and around Charon, which has sided with Dimitri. Garreg Mach, like before, will be our ‘capital,’ our base of operations. We will be in contact via wyvern rider or carrier pigeon, as before. Make haste to your positions, gather your armies. We aren’t as weak as we were in the war before… but our front is much larger. This won’t be like before. This meeting is adjourned.”

Ferdinand stared forward, unsure where he would go. Dedue, who had been seated beside him this entire meeting and remained quiet as a stone, looked much at a loss himself. Many of their friends and allies were already standing up, talking, deciding where they would go. But Ferdinand remained seated, in solidarity with Dedue, both feeling lost.

“There is one more thing… one more thing you ought to consider.” A voice rang out through the Cathedral. “You have yet one more thing to do…” A figure, cloaked in black, face covered with a mask, yellow eyes his only visible feature, stood in the doorway of the side entrance to the Cathedral.

Lysithea was the first to move, dark magic launching out from her palm at the hooded, ghost-like man. He reached out to the magic hurling his way and caught it. He twirled the ball of oozing death in his palm as it dissipated into nothing.

“I’m a friend. I have information I believe you are in dire need of.”

~~~~~

_ “Father, why is your eye always closed?” _

_ “I hurt it… in the war. It’s ugly, I’m sure you don’t want to see it.” _

_ “Why was there war?” _

_ “Sometimes people have to fight for who they cherish, for what they care about, for the world.” _

_ “Would you fight for me?” _

_ “I would fight the Goddess herself for you.” _

~~~~~

Something about him rang familiar to Ferdinand. Perhaps it was the cloak, or the use of dark magic… perhaps it was the voice, Ferdinand felt an itch in the back of his mind, something turning, realization threatening to dawn on him. 

“Dedue can attest to my trustworthiness. It was I who alerted him to the threat to his life from the king and queen.” The figure did not move, the room was still. 

“Is this true? Who is he Dedue?” Byleth asked, voice full of concern, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“It is true. But you would not believe me if I told you his identity. You must simply see for yourself.”

Ferdinand stared at the man, his features. He was tall, thin, if not for the black cloak that covered his body he would likely look skeletal. His eyes, yellow, bright even as they were intimidating. He had a look that said he knew everything, that gaze was piercing, and Ferdinand found it rested on himself. 

The man pulled his hood back. A pony tail of ebony hair fell down his back, a look he had never worn when they yet knew him before. 

Ferdinand lurched from his chair as finally… the final key clicked into place. He fell to his knees sobbing even before the man pulled the mask down from his mouth and nose.

Ferdinand sobbed, ugly tears trailing down his face, he shook with such emotion he could not place. Anger, love, fear, happiness, joy, they swirled inside him like a miasma shot from the man’s own hand. 

“No way.” Caspar murmured.   
“It… it is you…” Petra covered her mouth in shock.

“It’s been a while Ferdinand.” 

He advanced slowly, as though one might approach a wild animal to calm it, placate it. He stopped just in front of Ferdinand’s sobbing form, sad smile on his thin face.

He reached down, a demon from hell that crawled back up to the land of living. Ferdinand somehow took his hand, somehow allowed himself to be dragged up and into the arms of someone he imagined long dead.

It was different, he smelled different. There was no scent of coffee, no familiar light hint of lavender. He smelled musty, as though he slept in an attic each day, he looked tired, face even more ghastly than normal. His hair was long, and only just kept by a red ribbon. He looked a mess. He looked like he had crawled out of hell to be here, standing here, holding Ferdinand in his arms that should by all rights be rotting in the ground. 

Ferdinand breathed him in the same, his spectre of death. He held him, dug his face into the man’s neck, sobbing into him. Ferdinand had never been allowed this close with others near, he had never been able to touch him so truthfully and honestly in public, only in closed off chambers. Ferdinand breathed his name. 

“Hubert… Hubert…” That name became the very air filling his lungs.

“Hubert. I love you.”

“I know Ferdinand.” Hubert stopped a moment, pondering his next words carefully. “And I… love you also.”

For the first time, in so many years, everything felt right. 

The world was fighting, people would die, it was all back to hell again… and yet. Yet, Hubert was alive, in his arms. And Ferdinand would rend the very heavens, slay any who dared attempt to separate him again, the world would burn before Ferdinand was left alone again.

~~~~~

_ “What’s the sun like?” _

_ “Hmmm, it’s a bit like that- the glowing tube there. But it’s really big and high up in the blue sky. Also… it’s yellow instead of that greenish glow.” _

_ “Oh… I see.” _

_ … _

_... _

_ “Mother… what’s yellow?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strokes Ferdie's head, it's okay, it's okay, I'm sorry for what I've done to you.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of my first work on AO3! This is going to be a long, multichapter, multiship, war epic with lots of feelings and fluff and smut. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
> Additional tags will be added as the fic goes on.
> 
> I'm on [ Twitter!](https://twitter.com/TsarAlek) I'll be posting updates to this and other fics there!


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